


Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood

by SquishyCool



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Between 'Still' and 'Alone', Between Episodes, Canon Compliant, Diary/Journal, F/M, First Kiss, Headcanon, Infant Death, My First Work in This Fandom, POV First Person, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Zombie Violence, bethyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquishyCool/pseuds/SquishyCool
Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl."Traveling with Daryl has been a blessing in disguise... In order to see why somethin' is so good, you gotta see how bad it once got."Slow burn written in Beth's own words.*on hiatus until I finish “Most Wanted”*





	1. Entry #1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on FFN on 4.3.2014 and still being updated.  
> I began writing this fic soon after I joined the Walking Dead TV fandom. It was my first TWD fic ever and the first fanfic I'd written in years. I stopped writing for about 2 years but came back to it, and now I'm continuing until it is finished. I also have ideas for a multi-chapter sequel. I will continue to update this as I write this.  
> This story is written as entries in Beth's diary, including her signing off each entry with her initals (E.G.) because I personally assume her full name to be Elizabeth.

I don't know if this will make much sense anymore. I'm startin' to think I don't make sense anymore, not even in my head, not even on your pages. Which there aren't many more of. This is the last book I'll have to write in till I don't know when. The way I see it, I can either keep a bunch of short entries about survivin' and running for my life... or I can write down everything I can remember from the good stuff that happens. Because I have to look at it that way. I have to find the good stuff and remember it and hold it close or else I'll lose what's left of myself. I'm not who I used to be and focusing on nothin' but survival and what I'm gonna kill next or how many Walker brains I impaled that day... that ain't no way to live. And I figure I may not make it much longer. I won't outlast anyone and who knows if I get bit tomorrow or I get trapped or a million other possibilities... I wanna have somethin' good to look back on, to remind me it's not all gone completely to hell. So that's what I'll fill this book with, just in case it's the last book I ever carry with me.

Traveling with Daryl has been a blessing in disguise. It's been a battle to convince him to help me find the others... and to get him to admit he cares. That he gives two shits about these people. Now I know. Somehow I always did, but the way he rejected every chance for hope, it made me so angry. I see now, though, that he just blames himself. He thinks he could've done somethin', like anyone could've known what was comin' for us in the prison and what we were actually up against. He acts like he don't care because he actually cares too much. Maybe he even wishes he could've protected everyone. I don't think I could convince him otherwise. But I realize now that God must've paired us together for a good reason. If we had to lose the prison and I had to separate from everyone, including Maggie, I'm glad now that it was with Daryl. He makes me feel safe, somehow. Even though he can be a stubborn pain in the ass. Seems like every time I turn around, he's lookin' over my shoulder for me. He's got his crossbow ready to shoot through anything I can't handle.

I even saw him cry... I wrapped my arms around him. I let him just be there. 'Cause sometimes you need to cry. He blames himself and I don't think anyone from the prison would've expected that. I don't think they realize how much he actually cares about all of us. He might seem like he doesn't and he sure had me convinced. But I see it now. He wouldn't have ran with me, or helped me hide in the trunk of an old car, or taken me on a stupid mission to have my first real drink. He wouldn't have yelled at me if he didn't really care... and even apologized afterward.

When we ran away from that burning house, the moonshine glowing in our veins, I turned around and caught a smile on his face. I can't say I've seen him smile too much, let alone a genuine one. But I saw happiness on his face. I've never burned anything down before, but settin' that place on fire made me feel... alive. In a world where I spend every day just tryin' to survive.

We ran away from that fire but the smell followed us for miles. Moonshine and ashes. Burnt wood and stale cigarette smoke. We got so far away that all we could see was the smoke rolling above the trees in the distance and a faint, orange glow. And when we finally stopped for a breather, I looked down and realized his hand was clasped onto mine, all dirty fingernails and dried blood. It was warm and protective, our palms sweaty and his thumb pressing into the top of my hand. I probably blushed but my face was already red from running so far. His smile was gone now and he let go of my hand like he didn't notice he was holding it. He took his crossbow in both hands and started lookin' around for Walkers so I took out my knife and did the same.

We found a little clearing between trees and decaying logs that looked about as good as any place to set up a camp for the night. Once the perimeter was clear, we gathered up some sticks and brush and made a small fire. For the first night in a long time, I was actually exhausted and sleepy at the same time. The alcohol was wearing off and I could already feel a headache developing as Daryl and I sat on adjacent logs around the fire.

"Here," he said, holding out our bottle of water for me to take.

I took it gladly and swallowed a swig of water. It was lukewarm but I knew I needed it if I wanted to be somewhat alert when morning arrived. I sat and stared into the fire, occasionally sippin' the water while I cradled it in my hands. I couldn't help but think of Maggie and Judith and Luke and Lizzie... All of them. I missed them and I couldn't help it. I knew they were out there somewhere. I could just feel it.

"You're crazier than I thought."

His voice startled me, I was so lost in my own thoughts. I looked up and gave him a small smile. "You're more human than I thought."

He furrowed his brow and for a second, I thought maybe I'd said the wrong thing. But then he shrugged and muttered, "Just 'cause ya never see me cry don't mean it doesn't happen."

I nodded. I wasn't sure what else to say. He sighed and slid down to the ground, stretching himself out and resting his head back against the log before he closed his eyes. Sleep sounded good. I laid down in front of the fire and rested my head on my hands, the bottle of water within close reach. I swear I only closed my eyes for a second, just to rest them for a moment.

I'm startin' to think being with Daryl makes me feel too safe 'cause I should've known not to fall asleep like that.

In my dream, I heard Lizzie and Luke calling my name. They were somewhere off in the distance and I was holding Judith in my arms, lookin' around for 'em. She started cryin', but it didn't sound right. It almost sounded like she was sick or she was choking on somethin' caught in her throat. I tried to quiet her so I could find Lizzie and Luke but she kept gettin' louder, and then reached up and grabbed my hair, yanking on it hard.

Then I felt the teeth in my neck.

I woke up screaming only to find somethin' worse than my nightmare. I was lying on the cold ground of the campsite Daryl and I had settled into. He was standin' above me with his crossbow aimed a few inches away from my head. The fire had mostly gone out except for a few flickering embers that helped me to see the scene around me that was only lit by moonlight. One of his boots was dug into the side of my neck, but he wasn't stepping on my neck... He was steppin' on a Walker's hand and its dirty, jagged fingernails only inches away from my neck. Its other hand was grasped onto a chunk of my hair and it was seconds away from biting into me.

From making me... just like it.

I was literally moments away from death, and I was frozen. I couldn't move. I just kept starin' up at Daryl with wide eyes. I'm sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights. But I could barely breathe. And he saw it. He saw that fear. He looked stone-faced, like he always does, but his eyes were wild and searchin' my face all over for some sort of reaction or maybe he wasn't sure he had actually saved me in time. He was breathing heavily and I realized his hands were kinda shakin'. I don't think I've ever seen him anything but steady with that crossbow.

My breath came back to me and I gasped it in quickly. I sat up as fast as I could and stood to my feet, turning around to face Daryl and the scene of my own near-death experience. The Walker was motionless, a bolt shot straight through its head. He finally lowered his crossbow and glanced around. We both checked for signs of other Walkers but this one... he was missing his bottom half so... we figured it got separated from any herds and just happened to get lucky enough to find us within crawling distance...

Now, the reason I wanted to write this down is because... well, it's something good to me. Before all this started, somethin' like this would be considered a terrible memory. "Traumatic." But I'm still alive. I got lucky once again. Wakin' up to Daryl standing over me and realizing he was lookin' out for me when I could've been dead... you don't wanna forget about things like that. Especially when you don't even know for sure if the last few people you know and care about are still alive.

I told Daryl he'd outlast me and everyone else... I don't think he believes me but I meant it. I really did.

The sun is comin' up now and I'm still here to see it.

_-E.G._


	2. Entry #2

I think I might always remember the sky from last night. Even if I don't write it down. It was like this royal blue and there were a few long clouds scattered throughout. It felt like somethin' was lookin' at me. But not like that usually feels. Not like somethin' is lookin' at me as food... but like it was watchin' over me. I almost felt at home again when I looked up at that sky through the little clearing in the trees. I ached for my daddy. For Maggie.

Me and Daryl walked for most of the day, only stopping to eat. It was late, a few hours after sundown, but we hadn't come across a house since before sundown. We got some food from it, but it was full of bodies... Suicides. We've been seein' a lot of those out in these places. It still jars me when I walk in and find the scenes. To remember somethin' like that was what I'd thought was the only option at one time. I think Daryl could've slept there but I wanted to move on. I didn't have to say anything, he just kinda knew.

Walkin' with him ain't so bad. He's real cautious and he sees stuff I'd miss. He's quiet. We don't talk much. I like it, though. It gives me time to appreciate things, like how that sky looked. How I could feel Daddy still with me.

We came up on another house. It was small but it looked pretty sturdy and safe. We probably would've missed it if we'd gone a few more feet around it, there wasn't much of anything around it except trees and tall grass. We went inside almost silently. The door was unlocked and Daryl and I split up to make sure it was all clear. Not a Walker in sight and not even a sign of any dead bodies. Almost too good to be true.

Daryl searched the bigger rooms while I searched the smaller ones. I found a bathroom and in a cabinet was a box of soap. It wasn't food but I was happy. Excited. You hardly ever come across soap out here. I hadn't washed with it since before the prison got attacked.

I searched for more but couldn't find any so I stuffed the box of soap in my bag and moved on to the bedroom. It had a big bed that I looked forward to sleepin' in. There's somethin' else you appreciate when you can find it.

Daryl came up behind me, eyein' the bed like I was. We exchanged knowing looks of excitement. My eyes got wide when I remembered what I'd found. "Found some soap," I said, lifting up my bag. I couldn't help but smile out of satisfaction with myself.

He nodded. "Found food. And this."

He held up what looked like a cigarette but I realized it wasn't. It was a marijuana joint. I didn't know how to answer so I just shrugged. He had a smirk on his face and I figured finding this joint was probably comparable to when they would find cigarettes on supply runs. They were hard to come by with the more time that passed so they were pretty much a treat to everyone... Well, to those who liked smokin'.

"What? You never drank before, I figured ya never done this either."

Of course he was right so I shook my head, raising an eyebrow skeptically. He smirked again and then slipped the joint into one of his vest pockets.

"We'll save it for later. How ya plan on usin' that soap?"

My spirits kinda dropped even though I shoulda known not to get too excited. He was right... we hadn't come across a real river or nothin' in days. All we'd found was some puddles and tiny creeks to refill our water bottles. But I wasn't about to lose hope on that one.

I straightened up my back and tried to look sure of myself. "I'm gonna go lookin' for a river tomorrow. There's gotta be somethin' around here. We ain't found anythin' in days."

He nodded. "I'll help. Maybe we can find somethin' worth shootin' out there, too."

He went into the kitchen and I followed him in silence. This house was eerily quiet. I expected to start hearin' the sounds of a herd movin' through any minute. But maybe we'd actually found somewhere we could sleep in peace for a night.

We sat at the little kitchen table and ate canned food. Some of the cans we opened had already gone bad. But it was somethin'.

"Seems like as good a time as any to get rid o' this," Daryl said quietly after we'd finished eating. He almost grumbles half the time and I usually have to strain to hear him. But I don't mind.

He pulled out the marijuana joint and set it on the table between our empty cans. He reached into another pocket and pulled out a pack of maybe 4 matches that he must've found. I watched him light the joint and take a long drag off of it. The look on his face was surprising to me. He suddenly looked calm, maybe even relaxed, if just for a moment. He didn't even look that peaceful when he was sleepin'.

He took another long drag before exhaling a big cloud of smoke. It didn't smell bad or sting like cigarette smoke. Then he held the joint out to me. I thought, why the hell not? I could be dead tomorrow anyway.

I never smoked before so I wasn't sure what I was doin', but Daryl told me to inhale it all and hold it in, so that's what I did. I ended up coughing and sputtering for a little while but the second inhale wasn't so bad.

We sat in silence and passed it back and forth. I kinda enjoyed blowing the smoke out, watchin' it roll away in the darkness. The moon cast a dim glow over us through the window next to the table.

I got kinda light-headed. But I also got kinda... worry-free. Like things weren't so bad after all. At least not for the moment.

"When that... tweaker guy... put that gun to your head... Did you get scared? That you were gonna die?"

I'd been thinkin' about the night before and my close encounter with that legless Walker. It kept creepin' back up on me.

"Of course. But that was before all this. I never had to worry about much except what Merle wanted from me, let alone my own life. Never crossed my mind that I could die like that till I was just a trigger away from it," he answered right before taking another hit from the dwindling joint.

I thought for a minute. "Yeah. I'm... thankful. That you were awake. I've gotten close to 'em before but I'm always fightin' back. That was... different. I was real close. Too close."

"Let's just be glad it turned out the way it did." He didn't make eye contact with me, just kept starin' at the joint in his hand as it was burning down to the end.

It almost seemed like it was as bad of a memory for him as it was becoming for me. But I shrugged it off.

I felt tired now but I also felt more... lonely. I reminded myself I had Daryl right there, but I couldn't stop thinkin' about Maggie again.

"Y'know, it's weird... I keep thinkin' that, maybe, one day they'll find a cure for all this and... and I'll get to go back home to the farm and Daddy would be there and Maggie and Glenn... Shawn... Otis... Everyone. But I have to remind myself they're all gone. For good."

He was silent for a moment. I sniffled, not wanting to cry again. "I know... Sometimes I still worry what Merle'd think of me. What he'd say. But I have to remember he ain't comin' back this time."

I nodded, glancing at his face and seeing his eyes glisten. I glanced back down at the table. "I still feel my daddy watchin' over me. Stayin' with me. Protecting me."

"...Nah, that's me."

I was struck silent at that one. I wondered if he'd ever stop making comments like that about Daddy. Or maybe that's just how Daryl is. Maybe he meant it in a different way than it came out. I'm not sure.

I decided to change the subject. "You wanna take first shift so I can sleep for a little?"

He stood up after putting out what was left of the joint, picking up his bag and crossbow. "Figured we could just share it. Ain't nothin' gettin' into that room without wakin' us up anyhow."

I was kinda surprised. He never suggested we both sleep at the same time. But we also hadn't had the chance to sleep in an actual house with walls and doors until now.

"Um... alright," I was reluctant at the idea of sharin' the bed but it didn't scare me out of it. I wanted to sleep in it just as bad as he did.

We took off our shoes in the bedroom after he made sure the house was secure and locked. We even closed the bedroom door to be safe. He had his crossbow right beside him on one edge of the bed. I laid down on the other side and we both faced opposite directions. I heard him let out a deep breath and I curled my legs up and closed my eyes. I tried to take in as much of that "high" feeling as I could. It was a nice little escape. I felt more relaxed than I had since I slept in the prison.

I haven't slept more than 30 minutes at a time since the farm. Even in my bed in my own cell at the prison, I'd wake up at least 15 different times. I usually wake up short of breath, sweaty, searching for sights or sounds of footsteps or the growls and moans of the dead.

The first time I woke up, we were both lyin' exactly as we had been when we fell asleep. I listened but there was still silence all around me. Daryl's breathing was steady. He was still asleep. I drifted back off for another half hour or so. When I woke up again, Daryl had moved. He'd rolled over and was facing my back now. I assured myself everything was still safe and fell back to sleep.

I felt something touch my arm and jerked awake. My heart was pounding and I was about to jump up when I realized it was still quiet. I felt my arm and found Daryl's hand there. I looked back and saw him still asleep, scooted slightly closer to me and one arm thrown out towards me so his hand rested on top of me. I let out a sigh of relief and relaxed again. It didn't feel weird. In fact, it felt... nice. I missed sleeping in bed with my momma, when I was little. Or Maggie, not so terribly long ago. It was a kind of comfort I wasn't used to out here and I soaked it in while I could.

I carefully rolled over, trying not to move his arm or disturb him. I slid myself closer to him until I could feel his warmth and I snuggled down into the pillow, curled up beneath his arm. His breaths were still deep and steady and I matched them until I drifted off again.

I slept until sunrise.

_-E.G._


	3. Entry #3

I wanted to finish writin' down everything that happened in that little house we found, but I was too tired to keep the pen movin'.

Anyway, I woke up to sunlight fillin' the little bedroom and no Daryl in sight. I panicked for a minute but then relaxed when I realized the door was closed again and his shoes and crossbow were gone. He must've snuck out of bed without wakin' me up somehow.

I put my own shoes back on and left the bedroom. I searched the house but still couldn't find him. He had, however, laid out a little breakfast for me of what was left of the canned food we'd found. I smiled and sat down at the table to enjoy it. Somedays I felt like I could go forever without eatin', but then other days I felt like I could eat everything we might find in one sitting. This was one of those days when I was just ravished.

I was fishin' out the scraps from the bottom of my last can when I heard the door open. I jumped up and moved to the wall quickly, but Daryl came around the corner so I relaxed again.

"Found somethin' for ya," he stated, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.

How long you been out there alone? You coulda woke me up," I said.

He shrugged. "Couple hours. Figured you could use the sleep. You looked pretty peaceful."

I blushed a little, realizing he'd probably found me cuddled up under his arm when he woke up.

"Besides, I can take care of myself. And ain't no Walkers bustin' into this place without wakin' ya up."

I shrugged and decided he was right but I still felt kinda bad that he went out alone when I said I would help look. "So what'd ya find?"

He smirked and motioned for me to follow him back out the door. "Come look."

He led me outside and through a windy path between trees. We walked in silence for probably a mile before we could see anything but trees everywhere. It cleared up and before I knew it, we were a couple hundred yards away from a river.

An actual river! A runnin', flowin' river with currents and clean water and big rocks and everything! I was so excited I didn't even realize the huge grin that had spread across my face. I looked at Daryl and saw him watchin' me. He looked pretty pleased with himself.

"This is amazing," was all I could manage to say. I was beyond excited to submerge myself in that water, to wash some of this Walker blood off me and my clothes.

"There was a couple Walkers stuck in the mud over there," he motioned to the right of us, near the bank of the river on our side. "But I took 'em out and dragged 'em off somewhere else so ya don't gotta look at 'em."

My heart fluttered a little. Of course there were Walkers... but we hadn't seen any on our walk up here and if he already took care of the ones that were hangin' out over here, maybe we'd be safe enough to wash ourselves.

He pulled off the bag that was hangin' over his shoulder and reached in, handing me a few empty bottles. "Here, fill these up so we got somethin' to drink. I'll fill the rest up and then we can go back for the soap and food."

I eagerly obliged and juggled the bottles in my hand, rushing to the river bank and crouchin' down to fill them all up. Once we were done, we hauled them with us back to the house. We did another once-over to make sure there wasn't anymore food or supplies we could use. I kinda hoped I would find some secret stash of laundry detergent but in the end, I figured I'd just have to use a little of the soap I'd already found. Oh well, not like I hadn't done that before. It was still better than no soap.

Daryl headed for the front door but I lingered outside the bedroom for just a minute. I gazed longingly at that big, comfy bed, unsure of when we'd ever come across somethin' so nice again. In my head, I thanked it and those dingy walls for givin' me the best night's sleep I've had since before I watched my farm burn down.

I turned around and headed for the door to see Daryl had stopped to watch me. "Don't worry. It won't be the last nice place we sleep."

I gave him a smile, unsure of how he was able to read my mind sometimes, and we left the house.

When we got to the river, I offered to wash our clothes while Daryl bathed. He stripped down to his boxers and just about ran to a spot a few hundred feet away where the water was about 4 feet deep and the current was calm. I waited till he was in the water and focused on himself before stripping down to my bra and underwear. I found a good rock to lay the clothes out on and started soapin' them up. It took a lot of scrubbing to get some of the dirt and blood out of our clothes. Some of it was permanently stained but by the time I'd finished Daryl's clothes, I brought them to my nose to take in the smell of clean laundry. It wasn't like the smell I loved so much when I'd take the clothes off the line at the farm, and I had to set them out on rocks to let the sun dry them, but it was still so nice. Just to smell somethin' that wasn't decaying flesh or rotting food was a blessing. I started scrubbin' my own clothes, not even realizing I was smiling to myself. I looked over to check on Daryl. His back was turned towards me and he was focused on washing his hair. I could tell he was enjoying bathing just as much as I was going to.

I looked down to lay out the shirt I'd finished washing and pick up another piece of clothing to start on. Somethin' moved in the corner of my eye, towards the direction Daryl was in, and I looked over. He was dipping his head under the water and scrubbin' his scalp, his back turned toward the river bank, where his crossbow lay. But I realized he wasn't alone.

Just a few feet behind him was a bloated, mud-covered Walker. We figured out later that it had somehow gotten buried beneath a bunch of mud under the water and had fought its way out and to the surface when Daryl started bathing right near it.

I dropped the clothes and soap in my hands and stood up, yellin' Daryl's name as loud as I could, tryin' to get his attention. But he couldn't hear me over the sounds of the river and his back was turned towards me as well as the Walker that was quickly approaching him.

My instincts kicked in and I grabbed my knife and sprinted, wearin' nothing but my bra and undies. I don't think I've ever run so fast in my life. The mud of the river bank tried to bog me down, but I fought against it. Just as I entered the water, I yelled again.

"DARYL! WALKER!

He spun around just in time to come face-to-face with the muddy Walker. He tried to step back but the Walker reached out and they ended up with locked hands, Daryl tryin' to push the biting corpse off of him without losin' his footing. It was pushin' them both closer and closer to the stronger current of the river and away from the bank. I knew it'd all be over if Daryl fell back.

I was pushin' as hard as I could against the water, knife in hand, to get to Daryl. It was almost neck-deep on me when I was finally just a couple feet away. I planted my feet and pushed myself up out of the water as hard as I could, jumping up and diving at the back of the Walker, knife-first. The blade sunk into its skull with a sickening squishing sound and it went motionless.

Daryl shoved it off of him after I pulled my blade back out and it fell beneath the depths of the current, sinking down and beginning to float down river. I stared at him with shaky hands and he wrapped a strong arm around my waist, pickin' me up and pullin' me back to the bank before I realized what was happening. We stepped out into the mud and I sat down, tryin' to catch my breath. He stepped back into the ankle-deep water and looked down at me. I looked up to see he was clean from his chest down but had blood and mud spattered across his face and neck, his wet hair plastered to his forehead and neck. I was relieved to see he was free of any bite marks. He was breathin' heavy.

"Thanks..."

I realized my bra was basically see-through at this point so I crossed my arms, feelin' a bit embarrassed. I panted out, "No problem."

We took a moment to catch our breaths. I was startin' to think my heart might beat right out of my chest.

"Didn't expect that. I shoulda checked the bottom of this thing before goin' in like that. It was my mistake," he muttered, looking around.

I shrugged. "Who coulda expected that?"

He didn't say anything, stepping back and letting the water get higher and higher around him. "I'm about done, just gotta wash this damn blood off me now... I'll keep a closer eye when you're in here. Them clothes clean?"

I nodded and stood up, picking my knife up out of the mud and rinsing it in the water.

I went back and finished scrubbing the clothes clean, but my hands wouldn't stop shakin'. I kept lookin' over at Daryl every few seconds, making sure he was okay. I wasn't scared of Walkers so much as I was scared of what could've happened to him. What would I even do without him? I like to think I can take care of myself but in the long run, I know I won't make it. I'll never be as old as Daddy was. I'll be lucky to make it to Maggie's age. Even with Daryl watchin' my back.

I had just finished layin' the last of our outfits out to dry in the sun when Daryl came back over. His clothes were almost dry from the hot Georgia sun so he slipped his pants on and held his crossbow securely over his bare shoulder. I avoided making eye contact, still feeling too exposed.

"Go wash yourself, girl," he told me.

I obeyed and went over to where he'd been bathing. I stepped into the water cautiously, feeling around in the mud with my toes, one hand gripping my knife just in case. Once I felt safe enough, I set it on a flat rock next to me and soaped up with the last of the soap. Unfortunately for us, Daryl lost what soap he hadn't used during his struggle with the Walker.

I miss being able to bathe fully nude. I got too used to it at the prison. Out here, though, you don't get that kind of privacy. Even if I wasn't with Daryl, I wouldn't want to expose myself that much. Just in case somethin' happened.

It felt so good to wash my hair. That's somethin' else I wanna remember... How it felt with that cool water in my hair, scrubbing all the dirt and sweat and blood and grease out... Knowin' Daryl wasn't far away. I could feel his eyes on me and it gave me a sense of safety. I knew he was wary now but I also wanted to prove to him that I can take care of myself if I need to.

Our feet didn't get very clean considerin' we stepped out of water and right into mud, but your foot hygiene is about the least of your worries out here. I think we were both grateful beyond words just to have found a river.

I stood in the cool mud of the river bank and closed my eyes for a second, my knife in my hand, lettin' the sun soak its way through my skin and into my bones. I opened my eyes and glanced over at Daryl to see him starin' at me. He looked away as soon as our eyes met. I smiled to myself and walked back over to join him.

He wouldn't look at me again until I'd slipped on my damp jeans and shirt, and even then he only nodded in acknowledgement. We both sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze blowin' through our wet hair.

I gazed up at the sky and thought about Daddy again. I don't think I could describe to you how many times a day I think about him. Sometimes it makes me wanna cry. Sometimes I do. Most of the time, I just hold it in, though.

I got pretty lost in my thoughts and when I looked back over at Daryl, I caught him starin' at me. He didn't look away this time. He just smiled. I smiled back. He threw an arm over my shoulder and I leaned into him.

"Good day to be alive," he mumbled

I didn't say anything... but I was thinkin' the same thing.

_-E.G._


	4. Entry #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter of the fic. This is the only chapter containing any sort of non-con or infant death and is the reason for the warnings/tags.

I miss clocks. There's a kinda certainty in knowin' what time it is. I miss calendars, too. When you're out here, you lose count of days. I don't even know when my birthday is (although I'm pretty sure it already passed). Or what day Daddy died. Or Glenn and Maggie's anniversary. You just kinda guess by weather and sun position. But some nights you don't get to sleep. And some days drift by in a blur, just one close call to the next. So you lose track.

I don't know what time it was when I woke up. We'd left the river and walked until sundown. Daryl managed to get a couple squirrels and we still had a couple cans from the house to eat. I took the first shift while he slept for a few hours. I was restless. I felt better since I'd bathed and washed my clothes but I couldn't sleep. Daryl woke up and added a little kindling to the fire to keep it goin'. I laid down and closed my eyes, not expecting sleep to come. But it crept up on me.

When I woke up, it was still dark, but there were hints of a comin' sunrise in the sky. Daryl was starin' at the fire, glancing around every few seconds, crossbow resting between his legs. I blinked a few times and squinted at him, sittin' up.

"Mornin'," he grumbled.

"I'm starvin'," I realized.

"Sun'll be up soon. How 'bout you learn a few things today."

I was surprised. But he was right. I couldn't refuse that offer. If there was anyone to learn tracking and hunting from, it was Daryl. I smiled.

"That sounds like a good idea."

We waited until the sun was up and all the dark corners of the woods were visible again. I let him lead the way until he found the tracks of a small animal. It's a lot of small details and observin' little things most people wouldn't notice. But I'm startin' to get the grasp of it. We tracked down a rabbit together and he handed me the crossbow.

I raised my eyebrows at him, surprised. "You really gonna teach me now?"

He nodded. "Really."

He moved my hands to the correct positioning to hold the crossbow, standing close behind me and helpin' me line up my vision. His callused hands held onto mine with a strong confidence, and I took aim at the rabbit a couple yards away. It took a lot more to pull the trigger compared to pulling the trigger on a gun. It's a different kind of feelin' you get from it, too. I can see why Daryl always uses that thing.

I missed the rabbit by just inches and it got spooked, disappearing into the bushes.

"Damn," I cursed under my breath.

"That's alright, you were close," Daryl whispered, his head still right next to mine.

I managed to shoot a squirrel all on my own by the end. Daryl got another squirrel as well as a rabbit. We took 'em back to our camp and he tried to show me how to skin them. I didn't do very well on my squirrel but Daryl still cooked it and we had a pretty decent meal.

We were sittin' around as the last of the fire burnt out, enjoying the peace we'd somehow found lately. Not one Walker in a whole night is a blessing, if you ask me. It got me thinkin' to what we were gonna do next.

I wanted to learn more about tracking and use it to keep lookin' for the others. I know they're out there. And the sooner we find 'em, the better. I know for sure Maggie is out there lookin' for me, too. I decided to speak up.

"I think if we're both trackin', we can find the others. They're out there. We just gotta figure out which way they're headin'," I said, not lookin' up at Daryl until I'd finished talking.

He didn't say anything. He just stood up and stomped out the small embers that remained of our fire, then turned around and scooped all his things into his bag, throwing it over his shoulder and his crossbow over the other. I followed suit and grabbed my own small bag, eyein' him for signs of a reply. He started walkin' off and I didn't have much choice except to follow. I was still waiting for an answer. A disagreement. Anything.

That's the thing about Daryl. He's not like other people. When most people don't know what to say, they'll lie or they'll say somethin' just to fill the quiet. Daryl's perfectly comfortable with that quiet just bein' there. And if he don't wanna talk, I don't think there's a thing in the world that could get him to.

We walked for about half a mile before I spoke up again. "Where are we goin'?"

He didn't turn around to look at me, he just kept trudgin' on. "Wherever we can. Where there's food."

My heart dropped a little. "And then what? What if we find some? Or we don't?"

"Then we stop to eat. Spend the night. Or we keep lookin'."

I felt the anger buildin' up inside me but I tried to keep calm. I knew throwin' a fit of any kind would just make him even more stubborn. "Daryl, we can't keep goin' on like this. We gotta look. We gotta TRY."

I saw him shake his head. "Ain't gonna find nothin' you wanna see."

I was fuming inside, but we kept walking. Another half mile. And another. Probably another mile after that. A million things were runnin' through my head that I could say to him but I wanted to convince him, not fight with him.

Finally, I stopped. I stood and stared at his back, waiting for him to notice I wasn't following. He realized my footsteps had stopped and looked back. I was rooted in my spot and starin' at him defiantly.

"C'mon, princess. We're losin' daylight."

I narrowed my eyes. I hate when he calls me that. It's just to mock me. "How will we ever know if we don't look? Maggie's all I got now. I gotta find her. I can't leave her out there thinkin' I'm dead."

He turned fully around to face me now and stepped closer until he was only about a foot away. His eyes were locked with mine and one hand was gripping the crossbow over his shoulder. When he spoke, it was low, almost a growl. "You still think I don't give a shit about them? Any of 'em? You think I ain't TRIED? I'm the one doin' shit while yer starin' up at the sky, like yer waitin' fer some kinda miracle to fall outta the clouds. I've left signs. I've left clues. If they're lookin' fer us, they'll find us. Maggie's all you got? Well that happens. Merle was all I had and I'm doin' just fine without him. I'M all you got now, princess. There ain't no rescue party comin'."

My eyes started wellin' up with tears but I forced 'em back. "They can't track like you, Daryl. They don't see things like you do. You're wastin' it all just livin' to survive."

"That's what this IS, Beth," he snapped at me. "It's survivin'. There ain't no perfect farm somewhere far off that we'll settle down into. There ain't no group of carin' people to take us in. It's us and everything that wants to kill us. And if you think all the people you cared about at the prison are still out there somewhere in one piece, then yer dreamin'."

I forced back more tears. "Why did we leave like that...? We didn't even try to find anyone else to come with us, we don't know who's alive and who ain't. We got no idea who else made it out."

"Yeah, and we also got no idea which way they mighta went. Even if they're still alive, they could be halfway to damn Florida by now!" he hissed. I could tell he wanted to yell at me but was tryin' to keep calm in case there were Walkers nearby.

"But why, Daryl? We left! We left all of 'em!" I couldn't help myself anymore, my voice was gettin' louder the more I tried to keep it in.

"We had no choice, Beth! We woulda DIED if we'd stayed there! We didn't have the chance to go look for the others. We'd've ended up just like yer damn dad!"

A knot formed in my throat and I couldn't swallow back my tears anymore. A couple rolled down my cheeks but I wiped them away hurriedly. "You made me leave... You forced me to abandon everyone!"

His eyes narrowed and I saw his jaw stiffen. His voice was low but it stung more than his loudest yell when he spoke. "I didn't make you do nothin'."

His words hurt mostly 'cause I knew he was right. I didn't think about it. I just left with him. I did what I was told. He said we had to go... I didn't know it would mean all this. I had no idea.

I was just about to snap back at him when we heard voices. Yellin'. We both froze and gave each other that look and I knew now wasn't the time to keep arguin'. My eyes dried fast and I switched into survival mode. That's somethin' I've had to learn to do, and quickly. There's not a lotta time for emotions out here. Not when it's just the two of us.

He motioned for me to stay close to him and I stood at his side as he got his crossbow out and prepared. I followed suit, unsheathin' my knife.

A few dozen yards away, much closer than we expected but almost impossible to see through all the trees and brush, was a little camp with maybe half a dozen people. We hid behind trees and moved slowly as we got closer, following what seemed like screams for help from two women. I mirrored the concern that showed in Daryl's eyes each time we heard another scream and he'd glance back at me.

We crouched behind a tree and kept our distance, close enough to figure out what was goin' on. They had traps lined up for Walkers and a couple tents. There was trash and clothing and bullet casings scattered all over the ground. I saw 4 men: 2 of 'em couldn't have been older than 25 and were standin' silently with their backs to us, guns at their hips. The other 2 looked well into their 40s and one was standin' over a pair of women while the other held a gun pointed at them right behind him. The women couldn't have been much older than me or Maggie... And he was beatin' 'em. Fiercely. Their clothes were ripped and their faces were bloody and they were cryin' and screamin' for help but it was obvious all the men were in on whatever was going on.

I glanced over at Daryl and saw him narrowing his eyes, his crossbow aimed towards the camp. I noticed his knuckles were turning white from grippin' the weapon so hard.

"We gotta do somethin'," I whispered as quietly as I could.

"I don't think we should... We're outnumbered," he growled back, but he wasn't taking his eyes off the scene before him. "And outgunned..."

I leaned closer and whispered into his ear, "I know you wanna help just as bad as I do."

He gave me a look like I was right. Before he had a chance to argue, I leaned over again and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before motioning for him to stay there as I walked away. We had to do somethin', and I wasn't about to let Daryl lead me away from this. It was people in need, people who needed OUR help. What's the point of survivin' if you're only lookin' out for yourself? He looked real doubtful and a bit angry that I was puttin' him in a situation he couldn't control, but stayed behind the tree, keepin' low with his crossbow at the ready. I crouched and snuck behind trees to the other edge of the camp so one of us would be on either side.

I was out of sight of the camp and Daryl so I made sure to be aware of my surroundings. It's easy to get caught off guard by a Walker when you're walkin' on your own. That's one thing I think Daryl has taught me really well. It's even more dangerous when you have to worry about the living, too.

I was close to the other edge of the camp and I began sneakin' closer so I could show up without alerting anyone, keepin' the constant threat of bein' eaten in the back of my mind. The first thing I noticed was that the birds had gone quiet. I stopped and looked around, my knife hand ready and waitin'. But I didn't hear the telltale moans or growls of a Walker or the clumsy stumblin' through leaves. In fact, I didn't hear anything. It was dead silent. Even the yelin' at the camp had quieted to a lower volume.

A stick snapped a few feet behind me and I spun around, not sure if I should suspect a person or a Walker or maybe even Daryl. But there was nothin'.

I went to turn around again and continue walking when somethin' grabbed me from behind. But it wasn't dead. It was a person. A sweaty hand covered my mouth before I could even start to make any kinda sound and a strong arm wrapped around my middle, completely overpowerin' me. I clutched my knife tighter than ever and tried to stab behind me, hoping to stick into some part of whoever it was. I didn't recognize the smell and I knew it wasn't Daryl. This guy's hand smelled like death and old food, feces and body odor. I finally swiped somethin' with my knife when I heard him yelp with pain right behind my ear. He unwrapped his arm from around me and slapped the knife outta my hand, grabbing me by the middle again as soon as it hit the ground a few feet away. I felt him put his mouth right next to my ear and his hot, disgusting breath sent chills down my spine.

"You just be a good lil' girl and I won't hurt ya," he whispered, his voice low and rough like he'd smoked too many cigarettes in his lifetime. I knew it was one of the older men from the camp. "I'll even forget about that knick ya just gave me."

I was more angry than scared but I knew it was no use strugglin'. I decided to let him try and take me back to the camp. Even if we got there, Daryl was on the other side, watchin', and he'd see me. I was still hopeful.

He led me through the trees and out of hiding, and the other men stopped what they were doin' and turned to watch us walk over the traps that were set up.

"Look what I found, boys!" The repulsive man holdin' onto me announced it like I was some kinda prize. What disgusted me more was that they all looked at me like I was, too.

They were all smiles on dirt-covered faces. Blood-smeared clothes and the overwhelming reek of body odor and Walker guts. They eyed me up and down, lookin' at me the way someone would look at a juicy steak. But somehow worse.

"Well look at that... So there are some cute ones left! I'll be damned. How'd you manage to find her all on her own?" The older man spoke first, his voice not much unlike my capturer's.

I glanced down at the women still cowering behind him and his gun that was still pointed at them, our eyes meeting. They looked desperate and starved, but as they saw me bein' held hostage, I noticed somethin' new show up in their eyes... Fear. Not for themselves, but for me.

"Found her sneakin' around not far from here. I think she was gonna try somethin' on us," the man tightening his grasp around me answered. "She sure wasn't quiet too long ago. Thought I heard a girl's voice yellin' somewhere nearby."

"The hell is that? What'd you do to yerself?" The older man pointed to my kidnapper's cut, although I wasn't sure what I'd cut on him, I still knew it had to be what he was talkin' about.

"Shit, she's a feisty one. Had a knife and cut me before I could get it out of her hands," he explained.

One of the younger men laughed at him, commenting,"Lil' girl made ya bleed, did she, Duke?"

'Duke' grunted in reply. I squirmed in his grasp, tryin' to catch him off guard and get a chance to run away, but he only held on tighter.

I realized the other younger man I'd seen earlier was missing. I glanced around but couldn't see him anywhere. My question was answered too soon when he appeared from behind the trees on the side of the camp Daryl had been hidin'. He was dragging an unconscious body with him, clearly strugglin'. My heart dropped when I recognized it as Daryl... his crossbow was over the other man's shoulder now as he drug the motionless Daryl a few feet closer before leaving him lyin' there. I could see his face and knew he was still alive... There was no blood and his chest rose and fell with breaths. A part of me relaxed.

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in," the man pointing the gun at the women commented. "Ya actually found what I told ya to find for once, Benny. I think that earns you a round with one o' these dirty whores."

He motioned toward the women and the man he'd referred to as 'Benny' grinned like an idiot. "Yeah, how 'bout that new one? I found her little friend, only right I get her first."

Duke objected from behind me while I stared intently at Daryl, silently pleadin' with him to wake up.

"Hell no! I caught this one myself, I get her first," Duke argued. His voice made me sick to my stomach. "He can have one o' those nasty bitches. We're just gonna kill 'em soon, anyhow. Can't drag 'em behind us when we leave."

The other younger man piped up, "Yeah, an' this one we can throw over our shoulder and take her wherever we want."

They all laughed like my life was one big joke to them. And I'm certain that it was.

"I ain't goin' anywhere with you," I finally said, lookin' at 'em each one-by-one. "You're gonna have to kill me first."

"Nah," Duke chuckled behind me. "We'll just kill yer boyfriend."

My eyes widened as I watched the older man turn his gun away from the women and towards the unconscious Daryl. They all watched me expectantly.

"You won't kill anyone," I challenged him, forcing a smirk to make him think I was confident and could outsmart him. Without Daryl, I had to think of what he would do in this situation. "Probably ain't even got any bullets."

"Oh, is that so, princess?" I winced at the gun-toting man's mocking nickname. "At the risk of gettin' a few Biters comin' this way... well, I think I'd risk just about anythin' to see what's under those jeans o' yours."

He spoke so nonchalantly, like this was all just a game to him. Then he turned his gun from Daryl back to the women, and before I even realized his finger was actually on the trigger, he shot the older of the two straight through the chest. The other woman screamed in agony and held the lifeless body as blood pooled in the dirt beneath them. I was speechless. My eyes welled up with tears.

I'd wanted to help and now all I'd done was gotten one of the women killed.

Now I'm not stupid or weak, if that's what this sounds like. I knew what they were plannin' on doing with me. I knew exactly what they wanted. I could see in those women's eyes what they'd already done to them. But I wasn't about to let it happen that easily. I was ready to die before lettin' them have their way with me. But these men were strong. Even the older one holdin' me was too strong for me to overpower. They were hardened from bein' survivors, from livin' off canned food and wild animals and killin' something or someone daily. What was I supposed to do? Daryl was passed out, I started panicking. What if they killed him? And for what, the slim chance that I'd get away and survive?

"Still don't believe me? Or do I gotta -"

"No, I-I do," I gave in, my voice shakin'. "Just don't hurt anyone else. Please. I'll do whatever you want..."

I couldn't stand to be the reason Daryl or this innocent woman were killed. If they wanted their way with me that bad, they could have it. It'd been my idea to help these women in the first place and now one of them was dead because of me. I wasn't about to be the reason they killed Daryl, too.

He was smilin' with satisfaction at me when the younger woman suddenly leapt to her feet, leavin' the body of the other woman lying in the dirt. She ran away from the man holdin' the gun. I wasn't sure what her plan was. I'm still not. It bothers me to think about it... To think that she was so far at the end of her rope and that her only chance for survival was to just run. Maybe with the other woman dead, she just didn't care anymore. Maybe they had been sisters...

"Shit, John, she's makin' a run for it!" Benny cried out.

'John' spun around and pointed his gun at her back. I shut my eyes but I still heard the shot and the hard thump of a body hittin' the ground. When I opened them again, I saw that she didn't even make it thirty feet away.

"Damn!" John cursed, lowering his gun to his side as he looked from one dead body to the next. "Gonna have to do somethin' 'bout these 'fore they come back."

He spoke as if they weren't even people. Like he hadn't just taken two innocent lives for absolutely no good reason. Tears rolled down my cheeks before I knew they were there.

"I got it," Benny volunteered, walkin' away from Daryl's side and to the woman who'd just been shot. He pulled Daryl's crossbow from his back and aimed it down at the woman's head, shootin' an arrow through it before turnin' around to see all of us watchin' him. He looked proud of himself as he held the crossbow up.

"I think I like this thing," he announced. I grimaced. The weapon looked wrong in his hands.

"Ain't much of a loss," John stated. "I think we used those two up about as good as we could."

I wanted to throw up at the sound of his voice, the way he talked about the women like they weren't people, like they were just objects to be used and weren't any good to him or his boys anymore.

They turned back to face me and I glanced over to Daryl. But my heart leapt when I saw nothin' except a flattened patch of grass and leaves where he'd been lying just moments before.

"Aw shit," John said, seeing what I'd seen. He turned on Benny. "Where the hell'd he go, dipshit?!"

Benny's eyes got wide and he dashed to the other younger man's side, lookin' around. "He was right here! Weren't y'all watchin' him?!"

"Shit, Kyle, you were right there the whole time, how the hell'd ya not see him get up?" John accused the other younger man, who shrugged his shoulders in response.

"I was watchin' him use the crossbow! Damn," 'Kyle' argued. I got the impression he wasn't the brightest one in the group.

They cursed at each other and placed blame for a good minute before Duke shoved me forward, his knee hard in my back. I fell to my knees and John approached me, lookin' down at me with his gun clenched at his side.

"Looks like yer boyfriend bailed on ya, sweetheart," he spoke low, a foreboding tone to his voice. "An' we got his only weapon. Y'know what that means."

I looked up at him through tears. I tried to stay strong. I hoped Daryl'd come back for me. But what if he didn't? What if he'd taken his chance and left? It was my idea that got us in this predicament in the first place and it was my loud mouth that had gotten two women killed. I wouldn't blame him if he really had bailed.

Duke shoved me down till I was flat on the ground, then rolled me over. I struggled and fought to get up, but Benny handed the crossbow over to Kyle and helped hold me down. Between the two of 'em, I barely had room or strength to breathe. They laughed as they held down my arms and Duke sat on my legs. I begged The Lord for a miracle. Prayed for some ungodly strength to fight my way outta this. But they were so much damn stronger than me.

I started screamin' at the top of my lungs and kickin' my feet as hard as I could. Duke pushed his weight down onto my legs so I could barely move 'em anymore and Benny held my arms down hard against the ground, cuttin' off circulation to my hands. They started goin' numb and I kept screaming. For the first time in my life, I prayed for a herd of Walkers to hear me.

"Shut that bitch up 'fore she gets a whole herd o' Biters comin' this way," John demanded from above me.

Duke put a dirty finger over my mouth. "Quiet now, darlin'. You'll enjoy this, too."

I opened my mouth wide and bit into his finger with my front teeth as hard as I could. He cried out in pain and jerked his hand back, scraping some skin off because I wouldn't let up on my bite. I spit out the tiny bits of skin I felt between my teeth as he cradled his injured finger.

"Son of a BITCH!" he yelled angrily.

He whipped out a dirty, blood-covered bandanna from his back pocket and shoved it in my mouth so far that I couldn't manage to wriggle it out. I could taste the cotton, the coppery blood and salty sweat. I gagged. The smell was overpowering and I wanted to throw up and scream myself hoarse at the same time, but all I could manage were choked sobs. Tears poured down the sides of my face and into my hair and ears. Rocks and sticks scratched at the back of my neck and dug into my spine.

Duke's dirty, callused hands lifted both my shirts up and exposed my bra. I felt him unbuckling my belt and I gagged again. His touch felt like bugs crawlin' all over my skin. It sent an ice cold chill straight through my bones. I shut my eyes tight but I could still hear Benny and Kyle's laughter, John's hoarse-throated demands, Duke's low, evil chuckling... I lifted my eyelids through tears and looked up at him as he ran his hands up and down my bare torso. His skin was scratchy and rough. I pleaded with him with my eyes, but he only looked back with malicious hunger. The only soulless eyes I ever looked into were those of Walkers, but now I knew I was lookin' into real, living eyes with nothin' behind 'em but evil. This man was worse than any Walker I'd ever encountered. He was hungry in a way they'd never be. He didn't just want my dignity and my life, he wanted every little thing inside of me that was worth somethin' and I knew he'd take it before he'd ever do me the pleasure of just killin' me.

This man wanted me to suffer. Just like those poor women I'd tried to help.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I was gettin' weak and numb from struggling so long, every rough-voiced chuckle wore into my soul and my eyes burned with tears and sweat. I shut them tight again, still prayin' with every ounce of hope or faith I had left in me.

My sobs were makin' my whole body shake now. I kept my eyes shut and tried to think. A hundred different ways to get away ran through my head but I knew none of 'em would work. Would Daryl ever come back for me? I was honestly startin' to think he'd left me.

I suddenly saw his face in the darkness of my eyelids. I saw the flames of the house we'd burnt down, and I saw his shy smile that was lit up with moonshine on that porch. I saw our dirty hands clasped together and I felt the breathlessness of runnin' for miles on end without stopping. I saw my daddy's face and his smile that I missed so much, that little sparkle in his eyes behind all the gray hair. I saw Maggie's happy face as she stood next to Glenn. I heard Daryl's low voice somewhere far off in the distance, a mumble that sounded like, "I got ya, Beth." Even though he'd never said that to me... it was like I could hear it clear as day, even over the inhumane sounds these men above me were making as they continued to grope me.

Then the laughter stopped. I opened my eyes and looked around frantically. Duke had stood up and feeling was rushin' back through my legs. Benny's hold on my arms lightened and I felt the circulation comin' back. I realized they were all lookin' towards Kyle, who'd been standin' behind Benny. They were all yellin' at each other at once and I took my chance.

I yanked my hands free from Benny and he glanced down just in time to see me wriggle out from underneath Duke's standing body and jump to my feet. I watched a booted foot come from nowhere and kick Benny in his side so hard that he fell to the ground. My shirts fell back into place over my torso and I pulled the bandanna from my mouth and tossed it to the ground, my eyes lookin' up to meet Daryl's. We only locked gazes for a split second but his eyes asked a million questions. I gave him a nod of assurance that I was okay before he looked back over his crossbow towards what it was aimed at... John's head.

I glanced around and realized Daryl had ambushed 'em. I can't even describe to you the kinda relief and joy that rushed through my veins. Kyle was lyin' on the ground behind Daryl, starin' ahead with empty eyes. I recognized the handle of my knife sticking out from the side of his skull. Daryl had found my knife and killed him, reclaiming his crossbow, which he now had pointed at John. John was aimin' his gun back at Daryl, and Duke stood just behind me while Benny lay on the ground where Daryl had kicked him to. They obviously hadn't expected to be outsmarted by a crossbow-totin' redneck.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring a crossbow to a gun fight?" John laughed as Daryl stared at him over his weapon. "Get the hell up, Benny, you stupid shit."

Benny fumbled for a moment before getting to his feet, whippin' his pistol from its holster and pointin' it at Daryl with an obvious lack of confidence. We were all at a stand-still, just waitin' to see which of 'em would pull their trigger first.

"I'll shoot ya where ya stand, boy, and not even bat an eye," John was tryin' to intimidate him but it wasn't workin'. "Don't forget we still got yer unarmed lil' girlfriend right here."

It was as if Duke was takin' an order. As soon as he'd realized I was standing near him, he swooped over to grab me again, but I was more prepared than he'd thought. I ducked and avoided his grasp, grabbin' his gun straight from the holster at his hip. I rose to a full stance behind him and aimed the gun straight at his head, steadyin' it in my hands.

We may have been outnumbered, but we weren't outgunned anymore.

John laughed, still actin' like it was all a joke but not lettin' his eyes leave Daryl. "Girl's smarter than I gave her credit for."

"You know there'll be Walkers here any minute," Daryl growled. "I suggest ya put your guns down and we part ways."

I heard traces of Rick in his voice. Maybe the old sheriff had rubbed off on Daryl in a way. I expected more bloodshed than this. And it may sound bad of me, but I had kinda hoped for it, too. I wanted to see these men get what they had comin' to 'em, for what they did to those women and what they had been about to do to me.

"Ain't nobody leavin' here alive unless it's me an' my boys," John argued, his eyes darting over to me. My hands were shaky and he noticed, smirking. He looked back to Daryl. "You mad that my boys stole yer piece o' ass?"

He didn't even have time to pull the trigger of his gun. I didn't realize what happened until I blinked and registered it. John barely got the words out of his mouth when Daryl took his chance. A bolt shot through the air and pierced the dirty old man's right eye. I watched the air leave his lungs before he dropped to the ground in a heap.

I don't think I've ever seen Daryl kill a living human without even blinkin' before that.

My breath was caught in my throat but somethin' in me was still in control and knew what I had to do. Benny still had his gun pointed at Daryl and was about to shoot, but I stepped over and kicked his feet out from under him as hard as I could. A gunshot rang through the air and my heart plummeted when I realized he'd pulled his trigger mid-fall. I saw Daryl duck and step back quickly and when he stood upright again, I searched him for signs of a bullet wound. He glanced down at his exposed forearm, just inches from his chest, and I realized he had a small cut from where the bullet had barely missed him. Relief rushed through me once again.

He turned his crossbow down towards Benny now and had it ready to shoot again in no time, barely givin' the kid time to see his fate before puttin' him down. Another bolt straight through the eye.

And then there was Duke.

He stood still, in shock, unarmed, eyes as wide as saucers. I smiled to myself from behind the gun and Daryl reloaded his crossbow. He turned on Duke and stared at him menacingly through his aim.

"You like screwin' around with lil' girls? Beatin' women?" He growled at Duke. I saw a spark of anger in his eyes that I've only seen a couple times before.

Duke laughed, that disgusting chuckle that sent chills all over my body, like a million insect legs on my skin. "Just shoot me, boy. I get it. I stole yer piece o' ass and yer pissed. So take me out like ya want to."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. I saw his finger hesitate on the trigger.

"Well I'll tell ya what," Duke continued, lowering his voice. "I don't regret a thing. Blondie over here's got some real nice, perky little - "

He hadn't even finished his sentence before Daryl had tossed his crossbow to the ground and yanked his knife from the front of his pant leg. He took a few big steps forward and swooped in before either of us could react, driving the blade into Duke's chest. Duke fell back with Daryl on top of him and I lowered my gun in shock as I watched him pull the knife out and shove it in again and again. Within seconds, Duke was bleeding everywhere, wounds covering his chest and his arms. But Daryl kept stabbin'.

"Daryl... Daryl! STOP!" I cried out. I couldn't tell if he didn't hear me or if he just didn't care but he kept stabbing, anger pourin' out of him.

My hands shook even more now and I raised the gun again, takin' aim on Duke's forehead. "DARYL!"

He'd stabbed him so many times, I lost count. I know it was more than 20. He finally yanked the knife out of the last wound he'd made in Duke's chest and in one quick, fluid motion, swiped it across his throat, opening it wide and lettin' the bright red blood spill out. Duke's eyes stared up in lifeless fear, his mouth opened in a silent scream for help.

Daryl stood up and wiped the blade of the knife across his jeans before replacing it in its sheath. He turned to me as if nothing had happened, panting out, "Only one bullet left in there."

I realized he was talkin' about the gun in my hands and I pulled the trigger. It was loud and kicked me back a few inches but when I steadied myself again, I saw that I'd made my target. More blood leaked from the new bullet hole in Duke's forehead. I dropped the gun to the ground and finally let the tears run down my face. I let the sobs take over my body. I couldn't even take it all in, it had happened so fast.

Daryl saved my life. And my dignity.

He approached me and reached out a blood-drenched hand, not sayin' a word. I took it shakily and collapsed into him, wrappin' my arms around him, and held him tight against me. I don't think he was sure how to react but he put his arms around me and let me sob into his shirt for a few moments.

I finally pulled it together and unwrapped my arms from around him, stepping back and hastily wipin' my face across my shirt sleeve. I shook my head and sniffled, muttering, "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not," he snapped.

He glanced down and then reached towards me. I looked down and realized he was buckling my belt that hung loosely off my jeans. I'd forgotten it was undone from Duke and I had the impulse to jump back at Daryl's sudden touch but I resisted, only flinching slightly. I watched as he used careful fingers to clasp it and pull it tight against my jeans before letting my shirt fall back over it.

"Now let's see what kinda shit they got and get outta here before the Walkers show up."

I nodded in agreement and we both looked around, makin' sure we weren't in danger just yet. Bodies riddled the ground of the camp. He pulled my knife from Kyle's head and handed it to me after collecting his bolts from the bodies of the men. I took it gratefully and we split up to search the tents.

I approached the middle of the camp, where the body of the first woman to get killed was still lying in a pool of blood. I leaned down and shut my eyes as I drove my knife through her skull and pulled it back out, ensuring she wouldn't be comin' back. My heart ached for her and the other woman. I still feel the weight of the guilt on me even as I write all this down.

Daryl was searchin' another tent a few feet away when I heard a strange noise. It almost sounded like the growls of a Walker but much quieter and almost pained. I followed the sound into a tent. The flaps were zipped shut. I pulled the zipper down cautiously, unsure of what I'd find. I held my knife steady, ready to defend myself. But nothin' emerged and there were no movements so I bent down and slipped into the tent.

There were blankets piled all over and in the farthest back corner, there was almost a little nest made up of blankets and pillows. I got down on my knees and crawled over to it. The sounds I'd heard were louder now and I could tell they were comin' from whatever was underneath this nest. I saw movement, like squirming. I reached out with shaky hands and delicately grabbed the corner of the blanket, pullin' it back.

My stomach almost dropped clear down to my feet. I let out a shaky breath and more tears welled up in my eyes just when I'd thought there was no way I even had anymore left.

I thought seein' my daddy die right in front of my eyes was the worst thing I'd ever seen, even through all the terrible and inhumane things I've witnessed since The Turn. But when I think about it, he had a full life. There's no ideal death left anymore. But he was surrounded by people who loved him and respected him and cared about him. He lived with meaning and intent and made his name somethin' worth living up to.

In that little tent, I realized what this world has really come to. I stared down at unfulfilled potential. The embodiment of an unsung life. An innocent soul stolen by evil and given to a monster, left to struggle and suffer for things it had never done.

It was a baby... SHE was a baby. All dressed in pink and spattered with blood. Maybe 6 months old. Her muscles were weak and untrained, she couldn't do anything but writhe and squirm in misery. Low growls came from her tiny throat, and her skin was pale as moonlight and cold to the touch. She sensed me there, smelled me there. Her eyes opened and looked up and I saw nothin'. Just emptiness. That empty, instinctual hunger that takes over every corpse.

I lowered my knife and looked down, tears pourin' from my eyes and soaking my shirt collar. I almost gave up right there. All I could think about was baby Judith and the women I'd tried to help. I could only imagine this baby had been one of theirs. It made everything so much worse, so much more painful.

I shook my head and tried to dry my eyes. I tried not to look as I reached over and pulled the blanket back over the baby's head. I raised my knife again but my hand was shakin' so bad at this point. I had to hold it right above the blanket, where I knew the baby's head was just underneath. I used my other hand to steady the knife, but they both kept shakin'. I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus. I knew I had to do it. I couldn't walk away from this.

I know I wasn't responsible for killin' that baby. She was dead long before I'd gotten there, probably a good few days. But it felt wrong to have to put her down. I don't blame those women for leavin' her like that. I couldn't imagine the pain they endured. I still can't. I know they did only what they could and I still regret not bein' able to help them like I'd wanted to. But I killed a part of myself in that tent. I put down a little bit of my own soul and I prayed to God to forgive me for the things I've had to do. I prayed that He take care of that innocent baby's soul.

I don't think I can ever forget what it felt like to slip that knife into such soft, defenseless skin and bone. It haunts me. My whole body hurts when I think about it and sometimes it feels like I'm chokin' on my own heart.

I pulled the knife out and dropped it, veiled in silence now. I bowed my head and said a sob-choked prayer for her. Sometimes I wonder if God is even listenin' anymore.

When I gathered my strength again, I grabbed my knife and turned around to escape the tent. My eyes met with Daryl's. He was crouched outside the tent. I don't know how long he'd been watchin' me. I slipped out and around him and stood up, shoving my knife back into the sheath at my belt.

"Ya alright?" he asked quietly, zipping the tent back up and turnin' to face me.

I wouldn't meet his eyes. I sniffled and nodded. "Yeah. Find anythin'?"

He shrugged. "Not much."

He held up two blankets he had draped over his arm and handed me one. He already knew what should be done. I walked over and placed it over the body of one of the dead women while he did the same with the other.

I know it's kinda pointless to do little stuff like that anymore. Respect for the dead. But it's respect for the living, really. For the human beings these bodies once were and all the people that loved 'em. It's just the nice stuff we gotta hang onto out here. We can't just forget about it.

"Let's get outta here."

I eagerly agreed and we left the camp. I didn't look back until it was well out of sight.

The Walkers brought on by the gunshots ended up catchin' up with us not long after we left the camp but we managed to lose 'em. I only had to put down two to keep from gettin' bitten, but it seemed like Daryl was jumpin' in front of me a little more than usual.

He didn't ask about what I'd found in the tent and I still don't know if he saw. But he didn't say anything. We actually didn't talk until that night, when we'd found somewhere a good few miles away to sleep for the night. He cooked up a dead rabbit he'd found at the camp and we ate mostly in silence.

I had to say somethin' though, and I took my opportunity once we'd settled down after eatin'.

"I owe you an apology."

He glanced up from cleanin' his knife with one of the bandannas he'd collected earlier. He didn't say anything but I saw that he was listening.

"I thought you mighta left me earlier. And I'm sorry for thinkin' that. I should've known better."

"Well now ya do," he said flatly, then added, "You really thought I'd leave ya in a situation like that...?"

I shook my head. "It was my idea in the first place. I wouldn't have blamed ya much if you had."

He scoffed. "I wanted to help, too. Just wanted a little more time to figure out a plan."

I stared down at the ground in silence. I heard him rustling around in his bag and looked up to see a clear mason jar in his hand as he held it out for me to take.

"Is that - "

"You need a drink," he said matter-of-factly.

I shrugged but had to agree so I took it and opened it. I guess he must've stashed an extra jar of moonshine before we burnt that house down. I sipped it carefully and slowly. It helped slow down all the thoughts in my head. I was sure I wouldn't sleep that night but I only got about an eighth of the jar drank before it overtook me and my eyelids got real heavy.

I was surprised. I honestly expected Daryl to be somewhat angry at me for bein' so impulsive and gettin' us almost killed. But I think he might've seen more at the camp than I wanted him to, even before he ambushed them.

I woke up numerous times in the night, just like I always do, and I kept half-expectin' to find him fallen asleep. But he never was. Every time I opened my eyes, he was sittin' in the same spot, watchin' me.

I'm startin' to think Daryl Dixon is always gonna be the good thing I write about.

_-E.G._


	5. Entry #5

I know if I go back and read my last entry... I'd probably tear out all but the last page and burn it.

It might seem like I'm writin' down more bad things than good. But that's not the way I see it. In order to see why somethin' is so good, you have to see how bad it once got. Especially out here. Every little moment that you feel something other than scared is a moment worth rememberin'.

Or maybe that's just how I see it. And that's why I don't go back and read those yet because I know, one day, I'll want to and I'll need to remember exactly what happened. But right now, it makes me remember the bad. Because I look next to me or ahead of me and I see Daryl and I remember only the good moments. So I don't need all those details just yet.

I couldn't sleep for more than a few hours, even with moonshine in my system. Daryl noticed I was restless and we silently switched places. He slouched down and I noticed the bags under his eyes in the dim glow of the fire. I sat with my back against a pillow we'd taken from the camp. He pulled a blanket over himself and shut his eyes. I wrote for a while and spent some time in silence, nothin' but my own thoughts and my knife at my side. But I had an uneasy feeling. Like one of those that you can't really explain but you feel like somethin' is gonna come up so you know you should be prepared.

We made too much noise at that camp. Between the gunshots and all the yellin', it didn't seem like enough Walkers had caught up to us. They'd've wandered through that camp and kept wanderin', their mindless hunger leadin' em elsewhere, pushin' 'em forward. I try to be observant. To understand as much as I can about these creatures. They're the top of the food chain now and the more I know about them, the better. But that's hard to do when they're constantly defyin' everything you ever thought you knew about death. And about life.

And it just seemed too damn quiet.

After this long of bein' face-to-face with walkin' corpses, you get used to the smell. It still makes you nauseous, makes you not wanna eat or speak or breathe. But you don't cringe anymore. You don't take that step back and cover your nose. You straighten your back and you arm yourself and you prepare to kill somethin' that already died.

But that smell is still unmistakable. I read somewhere that smell is the strongest connection to memories and it makes sense. That's why, when I get that linger of decaying flesh and rotting muscles, my whole body tenses up and my adrenaline starts rushin' through me and I'm ready to run until I can't smell anything but fresh Georgia air again.

The herds are the worst. They carry this thick cloud that, I swear, can carry for miles. A pungent mask over everything else that floats on the wind and sends those ominous tingles through you like shock waves. If death could reach out and touch you, the smell of a herd would be its bony fingertips.

It was still a couple hours before dawn. The moon and the stars were still high but there was a light breeze, promising rays of sunlight in the comin' hours. It rustled my hair a little and threatened the tiny fire that clung to life on the last of our kindling. But it was carryin' something else.

Death.

That smell. So familiar. So haunting. It taunted my nose and made its way across my skin. I perked up right away and started lookin' around, but there was no rustling, no footsteps, no movement of any kind. I shoved the few things I had laying out back into my bag and ghosted my fingertips across the handle of my knife, still searching for signs.

"Daryl..."

I whispered so quiet, I almost couldn't hear myself. I know Daryl is a light sleeper, but even he wouldn't have woken to that.

I waited a few seconds before daring to make another noise.

"Daryl...!"

I whispered louder this time and he was startled awake. He blinked in confusion for a few seconds before lookin' at me questioningly. I gazed back with wide eyes, wordlessly askin' him if he noticed it. What was wrong.

He was about to open his mouth and speak when he stopped. His eyes widened. He threw the blanket off himself and stood up, turnin' in all directions to look for signs. I knew he smelled it, too.

When he didn't see or hear anything, he turned back to me and nodded. There was panic in his eyes.

"They're comin'. We gotta go."

A stinging rang through my chest just like every time it does when he says that. "It's a herd, isn't it?"

"We gotta GO, Beth."

He stomped out the fire and I gathered the last of our things in a rush, leavin' behind more evidence that we'd slept there than Daryl would usually allow. He grabbed his crossbow and turned to me.

"Which way's that breeze comin' from?" he asked quietly, standin' still and tryin' to measure it himself. But I'd been awake when it first picked up so I already knew.

I pointed toward the southwest and he nodded. We jogged away from the camp at a pretty steady pace, tryin' not to make too much noise. It's so dangerous walkin' through the woods without any sunlight but we had no choice. If we waited till dawn, they'd catch up to us in no time.

I started panicking in my head. If we could already smell 'em, they couldn't be that far away. How long did we have? Where could we possibly hide? We had no idea where the next or last house was, where the nearest road was or if there was even a vehicle to help shelter us. We might not be so lucky this time.

My fingers tightened around my knife at my side, ready to pull it out at any second. Images of countless Walkers comin' towards us flooded my head, of my blade penetrating skull after skull but still bein' overwhelmed, two more Walkers replacin' every corpse. Half-eaten faces descendin' on me in the pre-morning moonlight, more teeth in my skin than I could count.

Then I noticed Daryl had abruptly stopped in front of me. I looked up from where I'd been focusing on the ground and tryin' to take light footsteps without trippin' over anything. The dirtied wings on the back of his vest gleamed at me in the dim glow of the night sky. He stood still, his gaze locked on somethin' in the distance ahead of us. I saw his grip on his crossbow tighten and his jaw clench and he spun around, grabbin' my arm.

"Other way, other way!" he hissed. "We came right towards 'em!"

My stomach dropped but I let him pull my arm and lead me in the other direction. Was he right? I had to make sure.

I looked over my shoulder and squinted through the darkness, not seein' much besides trees and shadows. Then I noticed the movement. And more. And more.

It was like they were bein' born from the darkness. The harder I looked, the more figures I could make out. Shambling towards us, limping, jaws slack and eyes empty. Then the sounds caught up and my ears stung at the undeniable growl of a Walker. And then the growls of dozens.

I could almost feel the blood drain from my face. I tried to keep up, tried to force my legs to move and follow Daryl, but it's like they were filled with lead. Every step I took got harder and more overwhelming. My chest tightened.

He turned back to me and noticed. He still had a hand firmly on my arm, guidin' me with him. He tightened his grip and jerked me closer to him but didn't stop his half-jog.

"C'mon, Beth, I need ya to move. We can get away from 'em, we just gotta be smart about it."

He was tryin' to assure me, to calm me and bring me to my senses all at once. But all I could think about was the herd that ran through my farm like a catatonic storm and how this was gonna be no different.

I tried to shake myself, force my body to go into survival mode like it's learned to so well. But everything was a dark blur.

Daryl's pace picked up and I did the same. We were runnin' now. Our bags banged against our backs and the metal of his crossbow clicked against every stray branch. But it seemed like the growls were gettin' closer, the stench growin' stronger.

"Ow!" I cried out, running face-first into the rough leather of Daryl's back. He had stopped suddenly again.

I stepped back and he looked at me over his shoulder. I saw somethin' dreadful on his face.

"There's two of 'em. We gotta go this way."

I was dumbfounded. At first I thought he meant 2 Walkers, but I quickly realized he meant 2 HERDS. I don't know how Daryl can think so quickly, process things and come up with a plan. If I was overwhelmed before, what was this? It felt like my fate was closin' in on me.

I hadn't been wrong about the direction the smell was comin' from. It was the southwest. That's why we'd started heading north. But there was a whole other herd trudgin' from the north and so we'd turned southwest again. And now we found what we thought we'd been runnin' from in the first place. We were surrounded.

But Daryl acted. Just like he always does. Somehow thinkin' of a way out. I was mixed up now from turnin' around but I followed wherever he pulled my arm towards. And this time he chose east.

We ran. He finally let go of my arm once I showed I wasn't gonna stop and I kept up with him. My lungs were startin' to scream for air and my legs burnt with every hard step on the ground but I pushed past it. The stench pushed me, but it felt like its hands were inches from my shoulders, ready to shove me face-first into the ground. The sounds kept gettin' closer. The herds were closin' in on us. They don't move fast but when you have nowhere to go, they may as well be tsunamis ready to swallow you whole and leave nothin' to bury.

My face burned and I felt a hopelessness gripping my chest. I gasped for breath and kept runnin', my eyes searching all over for some sort of shelter, ANY kind of safety. It was all trees and fallen logs and leaves and shrubbery. We couldn't outrun 'em and we both knew it. We had to hide somehow.

I suddenly felt the ground give way from underneath me and I yelped in pain as my back fell against something hard and uneven. It dug into my spine and I was almost afraid I'd broken something before I realized I'd fallen and had the wind knocked outta me.

"Are you okay?!" Daryl asked, stopping and turning around to check on me.

He had been just a few feet to the left and missed the huge log followed by uneven ground that had caught my heel and brought my back down onto its unforgiving surface. I nodded and quickly jumped to my feet, rubbing my lower back as it ached from the impact.

I had tripped over this old, hollow log, half of which was embedded into the ground, but the ground was so uneven that it was like a small hill. It gave the inside of the log coverage, which was tiny but just large enough to fit two small people underneath. But if you tried real hard, you could fit a small girl and an average-sized man.

I'm not gonna tell you it was perfect, 'cause it wasn't. But it was a Godsend.

I think we realized it at the same time 'cause our eyes met and he nudged me down towards it. We tossed our bags, including his crossbow, into a pile of leaves and moss a few feet away. I got down on the ground and flattened myself so I could squeeze between the log and the hard earth. I slipped in and pressed my back as hard as I could against a mixture of decaying bark and solid forest soil, unsheathing my knife and holding it close to my chest. Daryl dropped to the ground and followed suit, but the only way he was able to fit his whole body in with mine was if he was facing me with his back to the outside, our bodies pressed about as tightly together as they'd go. He also had his knife ready, in lieu of his crossbow.

We were face-to-face, dead silent except for our panting breaths from exhaustion. The smell was getting more and more overwhelming and the growls were menacingly close. If we made the wrong movement now, we were done for.

I shut my eyes tightly and pursed my lips, willing myself not to cry. I couldn't. Not now. Fear immobilized me. My heart wouldn't stop racin' and all I could smell was death and decay and... Daryl.

Leather. Sweat. Dirt. Blood. That hint of somethin' that could be alcohol or cigarettes or both, even though he hadn't recently smoked or drank.

I didn't realize I was quivering until I felt a warm hand on my hip, a stark contrast to the cold ground that hugged my other hip. I opened my eyes to find Daryl's starin' intently at me. He gave my hip a reassuring squeeze and I searched his eyes for the words he couldn't speak. I didn't mean to or even want to, but a tear formed in my eye and rolled down my cheek and into the moss and dirt below me.

"Shhhh," he shushed me, still squeezin' my hip. I could almost hear his voice in my head: "Be strong, Beth." I gave him the slightest nod before I noticed the footsteps.

At first, it was only a few. Then it increased. Dozens. Hundreds. Maybe thousands of footsteps. All uneven, shaky, shambling and careless. No intent or direction besides "forward." Growls and low moans. The frustrated groans from surely smellin' us but not bein' able to see or hear us. They were around us, and then above us. They were walkin' right over us.

I think I held my breath for at least a full minute. My whole body was stock still, as was Daryl's. Save for the sounds of footsteps and hungry death around us, it was so silent inside the hollow log that I could hear my own heart beating against my chest. I felt like it might burst from my shirt, it was poundin' so hard, sending quakes all through my body. Then I realized I was feelin' Daryl's heartbeat against my own.

Our eyes were still locked. We just stared at each other, too scared to move, barely blinking. I slid my knife-less hand from where it rested on my thigh up to where his was still squeezing my hip. I slipped my fingers around his exposed wrist and gave it a squeeze. I wanted him to know I hadn't shut down. That I was ready.

I let out a small gasp when a loud THUD came from above us and I quickly saw that a Walker had mindlessly tripped over the very log we were hiding inside. It had fallen forward and buried its face in the dirt just feet away from us.

Daryl carefully and silently craned his neck around just enough to watch with me as the Walker clumsily stood to its feet and, without turning towards us, continued walkin', straying away from both herds that were crossin' over us in opposite directions. Once it was gone, I let out the breath I'd been holdin' and gave Daryl's wrist a reassuring squeeze. He squeezed back and turned his head towards me again.

He formed the "shhh" sound with his mouth without actually emitting any noise and I opened my eyes a little wider, trying to relay the message of, "you really expect me not to gasp when somethin' like that happens?" I saw the tiniest smirk tug at the corner of his mouth and I knew he'd gotten my message.

Another noise not much unlike the one we'd heard moments ago. I inhaled sharply but kept my eyes focused on Daryl's, not makin' a sound. He didn't look away, barely blinked. I think he knew I needed the eye contact to stay calm, that silent reassurance of "everything's gonna be okay." More noises, a couple more Walkers tumblin' over the log and following the first rogue from before. I wanted to whimper but I held it in. Fear had a tight hold on me now. It was worse than hidin' in that trunk just days before. At least then, we were concealed and protected by metal. Now, we were half-exposed and had nothin' but the earth's forestry to cover us.

I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't wanna cry again. I didn't want Daryl to see what a nervous wreck I still am, even after all this time. I shut my eyes and buried my face into his neck, breathin' in his dirt-pebbled skin. I tried to steady my breaths. Convince myself it would pass. We'd be okay. They wouldn't find us. But all I could picture was the calamity of two whole herds comin' down on us, rendering our defenses completely futile, devouring our flesh like it wasn't pumpin' with blood and adrenaline.

I didn't realize my whole body was shakin' until I felt that familiar squeeze on my hip. I stiffened and then relaxed, willin' my body to be still. More and more Walkers were wandering away, fallin' over the log we hid beneath, searchin' desperately for the skin that was attached to our smell. It almost sounded like rain on a tin roof above us. But it was heavier and much more terrifying. Every thud and clunk was a skipped heartbeat in my chest. I prayed for it to pass. I vowed to God I would do better, I'd be more caring, less selfish, ANYTHING... as long as He'd let me live.

Just the same ol' prayer I say every time. I think God might be tired of hearin' it. But somehow, that doesn't stop Him from answerin' it. I always knew Daddy was right about Him.

_"God will never let you down, Bethy."_

That voice echoes in my head every day. In my dreams. It brings me comfort most times. But sometimes, it brings me pain. I don't understand His plan. Daddy told me he doesn't either, and that we never would until after we die. I never saw why it has to be that way. I just hope Daddy understands now.

I tried to block out the sounds around us. I made them into background noise. The soundtrack to this sad existence. I didn't even realize at first what the warmth right above my ear was. Daryl had his head restin' on mine, my face still buried in his neck. His mouth moved closer to my ear and I felt his lips press down into my scalp, kissin' the side of my head through my greasy hair. A warmth rushed through me and I stilled for a second. It felt nice. To know I wasn't alone, that someone cared and was there. I couldn't imagine bein' in this by myself... I won't imagine it.

I unwrapped my fingers from around his wrist and inched my hand down until I could intertwine my fingers with his. He let me and I grasped his hand, our palms pressed together. He squeezed it and I squeezed back. It was like we had our own silent language. Sweat against sweat and fear against... I dunno what he feels. I don't think Daryl really is afraid of anythin'. If he is, it's not Walkers and it sure as hell ain't death.

I felt a nudge from him and tentatively brought my face away from his neck. I knew what he was pointing out - the sun was comin' up. The sky was gettin' brighter and startin' to uncover all the shadows around us. The footsteps from the herds were fading, but there was still a little while before we'd be in the clear. But if we didn't have the shadows, we had a worse chance of being noticed.

I gave him a worried look and he stared back in his usual stone-faced expression. I can't help but wonder what goes through his head at times like that.

Most days, the sun don't come up fast enough. This wasn't one of those days. With every minute, it seemed like it got higher and higher and more light was floodin' the ground of the woods. It leaked across leaves and dirt, leavin' no shadow concealed. The footsteps had divided by more than half, the groans and growls slowly fading in the distance. They were less steady and they'd stopped trippin' over our cover, but there still wasn't a safe enough distance for us to unveil ourselves and make a run for it.

Daryl lifted his eyebrows at me and I knew he was motioning that we'd have to run soon. I nodded in understanding but I'm sure my eyes showed how scared and unsure I was. We waited until the sunlight was barely feet away from shinin' across us and revealing us. He leaned in until his mouth was almost pressed against my ear and whispered to me.

"Stay here till I say so. Be ready."

I squeezed his hand hard but he pulled it from my grasp, not lettin' me argue or hesitate. He carefully scooted back away from me in the dirt and slipped out from underneath the log in almost total silence. He looked upward precariously and I silently wished the Walkers wouldn't notice him. They didn't seem to and as soon as his body was out far enough, he planted his feet and rushed, crouchin', to our pile of supplies.

I watched with shaky breaths until he had our bags over his shoulder and his crossbow in hand. He looked back at me and waved for me to come out. I started inchin' my way out like he had and was about to stick my legs out when I heard the unmistakable growl of a Walker that had spotted Daryl. His eyes shot up just as a mangled, dirty body tripped over the log - and me - and landed on the ground right in front of me. A little yelp of surprise escaped me and Daryl immediately brought his crossbow up to shoot a bolt through the reanimated woman's head.

"C'mon!" Daryl hissed and it lit a fire inside me. I rolled out from under the log and jumped to my feet, glancing back to assess the threat. The herds were fadin' into the distance, lost behind trees, but the stragglers were still around us, at least 20 or so. Half of 'em had just spotted us thanks to the commotion we'd just made and the other half were sure to figure it out before long.

I gripped my knife and turned to Daryl just in time to catch my bag as he tossed it to me. I threw it over both arms and onto my back and we started runnin', away from the Walkers and from both herds. The sun was fully up now so we could see every danger that might lay ahead of us.

We ran a few yards when I stepped around a tree and had to come to a halted stop. I almost let out a scream when I saw that I had just about run face-first into a Walker. But I didn't scream. I held it in and instead, I brought my knife up and drove it through the Walker's head, right between his eyes. I felt the soggy flesh of his face against my forearm. I pulled the knife out and kicked his body away from me as hard as I could, only to hear Daryl call from where he'd stopped up ahead.

"Look out!"

I spun around just in time to see another Walker lungin' for me from the other side of the tree. My eyes widened and I lifted my knife, but in that split-second, my heart paused, 'cause I could tell he was too close to me, he was already too far forward and his mouth was wide open and ready for a chunk of me. If I leaned back, I'd fall. And he'd be right on top of me.

A bolt flew right past my ear and into the Walker's eye. It dropped like a ton of bricks and I stepped to the side to let it fall flat to the ground just next to me.

I turned around to see Daryl still aiming, narrowed eyes starin' at me over his crossbow. He slowly let it down and I let out a breath.

We ran until the last of those Walkers were out of sight. Until the trees thinned and came to a pause for an abandoned dirt road. There was a pile-up of 4 cars all crashed into each other. 2 of them couldn't even be opened to get inside, but we found bags of clothes and scavenged a few useful things to wear that we stuffed into our bags. We spotted a few Walkers far off down the road. They couldn't see us from so far away but we needed a breather before going any farther. Daryl cleared out the backseat of the least damaged car and we slipped inside.

I don't remember what kind of car it was. It was almost unrecognizable anyway.

Besides, there's plenty of other details I'll never forget...

_-E.G._


	6. Entry #6

The silence was eerie in the backseat of the wrecked car after havin' to lie completely still while Walkers tripped over us for the last hour. The sun was shinin' bright in the sky and I could see the little specks of dust floatin' in the air around us. The Walkers down the road weren't even close enough to be heard. Our ragged breathing was the only sound echoin' inside the mangled old car for a few moments.

Once we'd sufficed ourselves with studyin' our surroundings and returning our breathing to normal, our eyes met. We were both pretty sweaty, and I watched it glisten on Daryl's forehead, plastering his hair down. My mind shot back to the kiss he'd left in my hair and it made me feel almost weird to see him now and remember that so I looked away.

"Not what I planned for breakfast but at least we're safe," he spoke, bringin' his bag around to sit in front of him while he shuffled through it. "Hungry?"

I nodded, watchin' as he pulled out cans of food for us. He opened one and handed it to me along with a fork before opening one for himself.

I brought a few bites to my mouth before I realized he was watching me, waitin'.

"We only got the one fork left. Lost the rest," he explained. "Hope ya don't mind sharin' germs."

I smiled and handed him the fork, chewing and swallowing my bites before answering, "I think your germs are the least o' my worries."

He grunted with a small smile and I took it as a chuckle.

We ate slowly, tryin' to give the food a chance to settle and hopefully fill us up faster. Between the food and the quiet comfort of the enclosed backseat, the fear and unease that had settled into me earlier was slowly ebbing away.

"What d'you miss most?" I asked, breakin' the silence.

He closed his mouth around a bite and chewed, handin' me the fork and can and watchin' me pick out a bite for myself before answering. "A lotta things."

"I think I miss ice cream the most," I said, smiling to myself and looking up from the can at him. His eyes sparkled.

"Ice cream?" he repeated with raised eyebrows.

I nodded, keepin' my smile. "Yeah! Momma used to make it homemade. We'd sit around on summer nights and eat sundaes... It was nice."

The memory brought a warmth to me and for a second, I tried to pretend the can in my hand was one of my mom's sundaes and I was sittin' in the house on a hot July night with everyone I loved surroundin' me. Just to see if I could feel that comfort again. But it didn't work. No matter how hard I tried, I was still in a crashed car, eatin' a can of food that was close to expiring with Daryl. Not that it was terrible. But it wasn't home.

"I miss sittin' on the porch, drinkin' coffee and watchin' the sun come up while I chain smoke. Drinkin' whiskey while I listen to the birds at sundown, burnin' a joint," Daryl started listin' these memories I'd never heard before, like the single patches of a much larger quilt. "Just... livin'. Relaxin'."

"Didn't know you had such a taste for the quieter things in life," I commented, watchin' patiently as he took a few more bites from the can and gazed down into it thoughtfully.

He shrugged, handing the can and fork back and motioning for me to finish the last of what was inside. "Merle liked that shit, too. Sometimes we'd sit on the porch for hours, watch the sunset and rise in one night, gettin' lit the whole time and talkin' 'bout... God knows what. Told me a lotta things I needed to hear durin' talks like that. Couldn't tell ya half of it now, though."

I scraped the last of the food from the can and set it aside, chewing slowly and tryin' to picture Daryl and his brother just being siblings. "Maggie did that, too... But she was more bossy about it. Always told me what I should be doin' but wouldn't explain why. I always trusted her till I got to be a teenager and then I wanted reasons. I dunno... I hate bein' the baby of the family sometimes. 'Specially after The Turn."

Daryl stared down at his hands thoughtfully, pickin' at the dirt under his fingernails. "Fer a little while, I think Merle wanted me to be better off than him. But then when he realized I might've been... he got scared. Tried to keep me closer, hold me down to his level. I coulda... I dunno... been somethin' more worthwhile. Without 'im."

I shook my head, holdin' my gaze steady on him. "Can't change it now. He helped make you who ya are. Without Maggie, I'd probably be long gone by now."

"Don't believe that," he stated, finally lookin' up to meet my eyes. "You're stronger than you think."

I shrugged, then let out a light laugh when a memory suddenly came to me and I had the urge to share it. "I... found a nest of bunnies once. On the farm. I was like, ten. No momma around. I wanted to take one and keep it for a pet. But Maggie found me. She got real mad, scolded me. I almost cried. I remember what she told me. She said, 'you can't just take one of 'em 'cause the mom ain't around.' I said, well what if she ain't comin' back? They'll just die here. And she told me, 'how would you feel if you went out and risked your life all day to get food for your babies and then came home and found 'em gone? Don't be selfish, Beth.' And I listened, of course. 'Cause she's my big sister and she always knew best."

He was watchin' me intently through my whole story, blue eyes dead set on my own. He nodded when I finished and showed a smirk.

"Merle never knew shit, but I still listened," he said. I noticed a shadow cross his expression at this particular thought about his brother. "He was simple-minded. Set in his ways, stubborn as hell - "

"Oh, and you're not?" I retorted, quickly adding, "Stubborn as hell, I mean..."

He smirked and went on. "His was in a 'I know I'm wrong but I'll never admit it' way, though. He never listened to me when I tried to help. He was so sure he knew more just 'cause he was older. 'Cause he'd seen more. Done more."

He went silent for a moment, his fingers fiddling with a loose thread on his pants, then spoke up by, surprisingly, sharin' his own memory. "Shit, I... I found a lil' nest o' birds once, right after my mom died. Some damn bluejays or somethin'. They fell outta the tree an' only a couple of 'em survived. I felt real bad, I thought I could help 'em. I put 'em in this shoebox an' hid 'em under our porch. Checked on 'em everyday, fed 'em and tried to heal 'em. Then one day, I came home, found Merle in the backyard, hangin' out in this creek we'd always play in. He'd found the box and he had 'em... I didn't know what he was doin' at first. Shit, I was so young an' stupid, I walked up and my first thought was that he was givin' 'em baths. But... he was drownin' 'em. Breakin' their wings an' their legs. Just some twisted shit. He didn't know I was watchin' till he heard me cryin'. I asked him to stop - begged him to just kill 'em an' put 'em outta their misery. He got real pissed. Told me it was my fault for hidin' 'em from him. Told me I was stupid for thinkin' I could fix 'em and that the mom would never take 'em back with my nasty smell all over 'em anyway. He said, 'you ruin everything, Daryl, an' I always gotta clean up your messes.' I kept cryin' so he pushed me down and called me a pussy, then left like nothin' happened."

My brows had furrowed and I was staring at Daryl with incredulity while he kept his eyes trained on his lap. When he stopped, I asked, "Then what? What'd you do?"

He shrugged as if the story were just another meaningless memory, but I noticed he was picking a little harder at that stray thread on his jeans that he stared down at. "Got up, brushed myself off, an' forgot about it. Told myself I probably was a pussy who ruined shit, 'cause Merle was right about everythin' before that, so no reason he wouldn't be right about that."

I shook my head, studyin' the ashamed look on his face he was tryin' to hide by avoiding eye contact. "Things are different now. You're a good man. And I ain't never seen you ruin anything."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and I leaned back, satisfied. "Maybe if ya tell me enough, I'll start believin' it," he said quietly, still not lookin' up at me.

I laughed and rested my head back against the door of the car. A sharp pain shot through my lower back at the contact and I flinched forward, lettin' out a hiss of pain before reaching my hand back to touch the tender skin of what must've been a bad bruise. I was confused before I remembered my fall from earlier.

"Ya alright?" Daryl asked, finally lookin' up with concern on his face.

I nodded, grimacing. "I think it's a bruise from when I fell."

"Lemme take a look," he instructed.

"It's fine, it's just a bruise."

"Just lemme see," he said more firmly.

I sighed and gave in, twisting around in the backseat so my back was to him. I lifted my shirt up just barely and showed him the general area that hurt. His hands brushed my bare skin as they gently took hold of my shirt and lifted it up farther, forcin' my hand away. I instead rested my hands in my lap and leaned forward so he could examine. It must've been bigger than I thought.

He traced the outline of the bruise with his fingertip. "It's a pretty bad one. Gonna be all sorts o' colors."

I shrugged as if I didn't mind but actually, I was tryin' to shrug off the chill that ran up my spine from his fingers brushin' across my skin. I could already feel the goosebumps startin' to form.

"Lucky ya didn't break nothin'. A rib or somethin'."

"That's me, lucky Beth Greene," I joked sarcastically, pullin' away from his hands and turning back around, grateful to have my shirt covering me again.

There was an awkward silence then. We don't have them very much. Usually, our silences are pretty comfortable. Or required. I rubbed my lower back absent-mindedly and Daryl picked at the cloth upholstery. He looked around as if noticing the nooks and crannies for the first time. He started diggin' through the pockets and hidden compartments, pullin' out old dusty maps, food wrappers, crumpled-up receipts. Then he revealed a cigarette pack. He made a grunt of approval, pleasantly surprised. I watched him smirk as he opened the pack to find it mostly full. He slipped one out and turned his head to look at me.

"Got a light?"

I grabbed my bag and opened it to pull out the pack of matches. He put the cigarette between his lips as I sparked a match and held it up to him. I watched the end of the cigarette grow red and the puffs of smoke escape the corners of his mouth before he backed away. I shook out the match and tossed it up front.

He took a long drag, ashing out the smashed-out window next to him. The smoke rolled around us and drifted out the windows. I was just realizin' that the heat wasn't as stiflin' as it usually is. Summer is comin' to an end and I think fall is closer than I originally thought. I'm tryin' to keep track of the days, but they start to blur together, just one close call and sleepless night after the next. I can't tell if it's been a week or a month since we left the prison.

"What's goin' through yer head right now?"

Daryl's deep voice startled me out of my train of thought and I looked over to see him watchin' me with curiosity. "Just thinkin' about how it's not so hot lately. Might need to find some warmer clothes soon... Figure out where we're headin'."

I hesitated on the last part. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he took another drag, lettin' it rest in his lungs before exhaling. "What're you hopin' to find...?"

The question kinda caught me off-guard. "What d'you mean?"

"You wanna find the others but... what if they ain't there to find. What if we follow a trail that ends up cold, or worse. Or come up on another group like before," his words had a sharp edge of resentment, but I heard 'em for what they really were: his list of worries and doubts. "What if we found the others and... things got bad 'fore we could get there. What if somethin' happened to Judith. An' we had to take care of it."

"Daryl!" I was appalled that he'd even said it out loud. Of course I'd thought about it, especially since my own personal nightmare at that camp. But talkin' about it is somethin' else entirely. It's a worst case scenario. It doesn't deserve more than a passin' thought.

"Could you do it?" he continued, ignorin' my shock. "You think you could handle somethin' like that?"

I narrowed my eyes, starin' at him for a moment before diverting my eyes downward. "I did it at that camp, didn't I... Ya do what you have to. Doesn't mean it's not worth tryin'. I don't think everyone would've left her. Or not kept her safe. She's out there somewhere. Even if it's not with Rick or Carl. She's alive. And she deserves to be looked for... So does Maggie. She's too smart. She can't be dead either."

"I'm just sayin'," he added. "When we found that scene, that kid's shoe... You think you could handle seein' somethin' like that again?"

I shrugged. "It's not seein' it that bothers me, it's knowin' I didn't do anythin' to try and stop it."

Daryl scoffed but he didn't have a comment like I expected. Instead, he tossed the cigarette butt from between his fingers and out the window.

"We don't know who we can trust out here, Beth. I couldn't... I dunno what I'd do if I let you get hurt."

"I thought I proved I can take care o' myself," I said quietly.

"Ain't the point," he stated.

"Daryl, you don't... see me as a child anymore, do you?" I asked hesitantly, my eyes flitting down and back up to his.

I wanted to know if that's what made him feel this way, like he's obligated to protect me. I know he's saved my life a few times already, but I've done my part, too. I'm not helpless. I've wanted it to be a co-dependent thing. Not like he's my protector or chauffeur. But sometimes, when he says somethin' like that, it makes me think this is all like babysittin' to him. Like he's only worried about me 'cause he thinks he owes my dad or my family or somethin'. Just outta guilt. I tensed nervously waitin' for his answer, hopin' somethin' in all this had made it through to him that I'm not the teenage daughter he met at the farm. I'm an orphan and a survivor. Like him. We both need protectin'.

His eyes finally met mine again and he stared at me seriously, his gaze unwavering. "No, I don't."

His honest answer eased me a little and I relaxed. "Then trust me for once. There's still somethin' to hope for out there. We ain't the only good people left. Can't be."

"Dunno what makes you so sure of everythin'," he remarked.

"I ain't sure, that's the thing," I said. "I just... can't lose hope. Neither of us can. We can't just give up on the idea of somethin' better. We... deserve to live, not just survive. To not feel so alone in the world. We found a little normalcy in the prison. We could find that again. Where we don't have to worry about bein' eaten in our sleep or attacked by a group of twisted men."

He winced slightly at the mention of the camp of men and studied me as if I was explainin' somethin' he'd never made sense of before.

I didn't say anything else. When I realized he wasn't goin' to either, I grabbed the pack of cigarettes lyin' on the seat between us and took one out, puttin' it between my lips. I noticed Daryl watchin' me out of the corner of my eye as I struck a match and lit the end. I tried to use what he'd told me for smoking the joint but I ended up coughing out the first inhale of smoke I took. It was harsh and stung my throat, but I tried again and successfully blew out a cloud of smoke. I watched it drift out the window closest to me and held the cigarette between my index and middle fingers. Smokin' never appealed to me and I never would've done it before, but I have to admit, I felt kinda "cool" sittin' there with it, blowin' smoke out and holdin' it like I'd seen people in movies do so many times.

I didn't look over at Daryl for a couple of minutes, but I felt his eyes on me as he watched me smoke. When I finally did look at him, I realized the nicotine must've been kickin' in, 'cause I got a sudden rush to my head and a light, relaxed feelin' all throughout my body. It was different than the joint, but I'm not sure how to explain it. All I know is, I can see how people get addicted to those things, even with how awful they taste and smell.

"Never smoked before either, huh?" he finally commented, his fingers fiddling with the hair on his chin and a small smirk on his mouth.

I shook my head. "'Course not. They kill ya."

"So does everythin' else out here," he retorted.

"Exactly," I said, takin' another drag from the cigarette but keepin' eye contact with him.

I saw somethin' spark in the darkness of his blue eyes as he leaned back in the seat and watched me. My unease from his gaze faded away with each puff of smoke I exhaled.

The cigarette burned lower than I realized and I moved it to my lips to inhale the last drag, but the red, glowing ash from the end fell and landed on my chest. I yelped in pain at the sudden burnin' and dropped the unlit butt, hurriedly brushin' at my chest to get rid of the lit cherry.

Daryl let out a laugh but scooted to the middle of the seat and reached over, helpin' me brush the last of the ash from my chest.

"Real funny," I said flatly, displeased. But when I looked up and met his eyes, saw the smile on his lips and the glow on his face, I couldn't help but smile, too. I let out a laugh, havin' to admit I probably looked pretty foolish.

When our laughter died out, I noticed just how close we were. His thigh was touching mine and our faces were inches apart. I could smell his breath - it smelled like cigarettes with a hint of the food we'd just eaten. Everything went still for a moment, like the world around us had paused. Somethin' fluttered to life in the pit of my stomach and I watched his blue eyes dart from my own to my mouth and back again.

I can't tell you what possessed me to go ahead with what happened next. Maybe it was the nicotine runnin' through my system and liftin' my head up into the clouds. Or maybe it was the little flame of hope I could see burnin' in Daryl's eyes, like I'd put it there myself. Like I'd finally done somethin' good for once... made a difference. Made him think a little deeper.

I don't know which of us moved in first, but my eyes closed and I felt the damp warmth of his chapped lips on mine. I inhaled sharply and held it, my whole body goin' still for a few seconds while our mouths pressed together. It was shy and timid, but what I liked best is that he didn't open his mouth, didn't try to stick his tongue in or pull me closer. We just let it happen. I never liked how Jimmy or Zach kissed because it felt... sloppy, and kinda gross. Sometimes forced. The way our teeth would click together and their tongues would get slobber all over my lips. Kissin' Daryl was nothin' like that. I almost felt in control for once. I felt how pensive he was and pressed my lips a little harder to his. He didn't back away but didn't try to press closer either. I tasted the cigarette he'd smoked and felt the tickle of his facial hair against my chin and upper lip.

I forgot I was holding my breath and when he finally pulled away, I let it out and felt a whole new rush to my head. He stayed sitting where he was, our faces still inches apart. I opened my eyes to find his hooded ones starin' at me, a million questions in their blue depths. I'm sure I looked about the same, but it felt awkward for a second so I tentatively smiled. A breathy chuckle escaped my lips, fillin' the absence he'd left.

I expected him to say somethin'. Anything. But all he did was smirk, studying me as if he was seein' me in a whole new light. He looked me up and down, and I caught his gaze linger on my mouth for just a second too long. I don't know much about guys - or men, in this case - but I got the feelin' he wanted to kiss me again.

Somethin' caught his attention from his peripherals, though, and he spun his head around to look out the dirty and shattered back window of the car. I knew our little moment was over when he let out a sigh of contempt before speaking.

"We got company."

_-E.G._


	7. Entry #7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was posted after my 2-year hiatus!

There were 5 Walkers that had wandered out of the woods and joined the 3 or 4 strays down the road, slowly but surely findin' their way to our car. Their growls were getting audible and we needed to decide whether to kill them or just leave. Daryl looked at me and I realized he seemed a lot more disappointed than he'd normally be. Or maybe he was just tired.

We gathered our stuff quickly and I saw him snatch up the pack of cigarettes to stuff them in an inside pocket of his vest. He opened the door and slid out, movin' aside and holding the door wider for me to follow. As soon as I stepped out, I unsheathed my knife and kept it ready in my hand.

It wasn't even close to noon yet but the humidity was already soaking our skin. The fresh morning air felt nice compared to the stuffy inside of the wrecked car, but somehow the sun still managed to make it feel a little worse. Daryl stopped and turned to me.

"Follow the road or head this way?" he asked, jerkin' a thumb in the direction of the woods that lay before us.

My head was still a little messy from the few moments before we'd gotten outta the car. I repeated his question silently to myself and blinked. I suddenly realized this wasn't the first road we'd crossed or the first path we'd strayed from. How far had we gone? How many miles had we blown through just runnin' blindly to safety?

The growls of Walkers echoed around me, but I didn't flinch. They were still a safe distance away and my mind was wrapped up tryin' to make sense of which direction we'd taken ourselves in.

Which way would Maggie be goin'? Rick and Carl? Michonne?

"You're the tracker," I answered.

He glanced behind me towards the Walkers, then over his shoulder at the road.

"Let's follow this, try to find a mile marker or somethin'," he concluded.

I exhaled in relief at his solution, glad that he seemed to be thinkin' like me for a change. He wanted to know where we were, too - figure out what the next move would be.

He turned and started walkin' along the edge of the road and away from the wreckage. I stepped and hesitated, the smell of the Walkers catching in the breeze and making me uneasy. I glanced back at them and then to him.

"We should take care of 'em," I called to him.

He stopped and turned back, assessing the steadily moving group of undead. "S'pose."

He pulled his crossbow from his back as he walked, loading it and taking aim while I fell into stride a few feet to the right of him. I set my focus on a smaller Walker that had a good distance away from the others and sped up my pace as I got closer. From the corner of my eye, I saw Daryl shoot a bolt through the forehead of the group's leading Walker, then step back to reload. I grabbed my Walker's shoulder – an older, more decayed woman in tattered bathrobes (maybe someone's grandmother..?) – and steadied her as she lurched forward with outstretched arms, driving the blade of my knife into the soft flesh of her exposed skull. She dropped and fell away from my clenched hand, and I quickly stepped back to give her body room to sprawl out before me.

It's scary how habitual this can get. It's like muscle memory after a while, when you wake up and do it all day and sleep with it still in the back of your head. I coulda told you every little detail about the first terrifying ten or so Walkers I'd had to fight off or put down, but now I can't remember more than a handful from each day. My head wasn't even all there as I put down the Walkers. They weren't a real threat and my knife slipped into them almost too easy. I was stuck on thoughts of findin' the others… and a little stuck on the backseat of that car. We jump so quick from human feelings to feeling nothing while we stay alive. What did Daryl do with it all? Did he turn it on and off like a switch? He has to. He never lets his emotions get in the way of his survival. That's why he's alive while so many others are long gone.

When we were done, 12 corpses lay in the middle of the road. There hadn't been that many to start, but they kept creeping up outta the woods, probably drawn by our smell and our little commotion. The kinda stuff that makes me wonder just how many wanderin' monsters are lost in the Georgia woods. Where were they all going?

Daryl and I were both breathing hard while we cleaned our weapons and put them away, him side-eyein' the woods for signs of any other threats and me still thinking about what we might find down the road. Hopefully a place to rest. To enjoy silence. Maybe to let him get the rest he'd missed out on the night before.

Plus I couldn't figure out what the hell he was thinkin' since we actually… kissed.

(That word looks so out-of-place here, but this is supposed to be my book about the **good** things, right?)

We trudged down the dirt road in silence, my footsteps echoing in my ears while I thought about what it could mean if we found a sign or mile marker. Surely they would head north, right? Wasn't that kind of always the plan? I feel like it was for some reason. I try to think like Rick but I can't imagine being a leader and makin' decisions like that. I'd almost rather let Daryl dictate our journey. Where do you even think to go when you already know the rest of the world is like this?

We'd walked a few miles when we came up on a disgusting scene. It was nearly noon at this point and the sun was high in the sky. I could feel the heat from the ground through the bottoms of my boots and we both had sweat rollin' down the sides of our faces. I'd held my knife ready in my hand for a while but I figured nothin' could really happen on the open road so I slipped it back into its sheath, noticing that the handle was slippery with the sweat from my palm – makin' me glad I hadn't had to use it in a rush or else it may have gone really badly. We'd been passing a bottle of water back and forth for the last few minutes and when we got close enough to make out what was ahead of us, he pushed the bottle into my hands and sped up his pace to walk ahead of me and inspect it first. I didn't try to catch up to him. I didn't see anything moving in whatever was left there and honestly, I was tired and sore. I couldn't get my legs to move much faster on my own.

He motioned for me that it was safe to approach once I was already right behind him. He didn't have to explain what had happened here – I could tell just by seeing it. 8 people were lined up, shot execution style while on their knees and left to rot with hands ziptied behind their backs. It was a robbery. Random clothes and useless items like photos and small stuffed animals lay scattered around 'em. I had hoped my vision was mistaken when I was farther away, but now I was assured that two of the bodies were kids… younger than 10, probably.

"What happened here?"

Daryl's rough voice cracked through my thoughts and I tore my eyes away from the bodies to meet his questioning gaze. "What?"

"I mean, use what I been teachin' ya. What happened here?"

I furrowed my brow for a second, feeling a little appalled and wantin' to be defiant, but I didn't. I knew he was just trying to make use of a senseless situation. I get that.

"Robbery," I stated, trying to sound confident, but I think he heard my voice crack.

"How d'you know?" he kept his eyes on me, waitin' for my answer.

I turned and motioned towards the tire tracks in the grass that lead out onto the road. "They had a vehicle. Somebody killed 'em, took what they wanted, and drove off with the truck."

"Truck?" he asked, crinkling the corners of his eyes and squinting against the high noon sun.

"I know the difference between truck and car tire tracks," I stated matter-of-factly.

He nodded and I think I saw a smile tuggin' on his lips but he turned his head away from me before I could be sure.

"Damn shame," he muttered with no smile evident in his voice, situating the crossbow and bag on his back and settin' off again. Neither of us brought up the dead kids lying in the grass a few feet away from where we'd been standing.

"Don'tcha wanna know which direction they're goin' in?" I piped up, falling into step behind him.

"Not really," he answered, pullin' the pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket and slipping one into his mouth. I'd almost forgotten he had them.

"Well, maybe we shouldn't go this way then," I said, my eyes following the tire tracks as far as I could see ahead of us.

"We ain't goin' the other way. 'Sides, nobody steals a truck like that just to stay drivin' 'round these damn boonies," he explained. "Looked like desperation."

"Or deviance," I countered.

He craned his head back over his shoulder and squinted his eyes to give me a look like "really?" and I shrugged meekly, "Ya never know anymore…"

"Once we find a mile marker, we'll head back towards the woods. Or if we find a fork 'fore that, we'll take the turn they didn't," he assured me, cigarette dangling from his lips as he spoke.

I decided he was probably right so we kept walkin'. We strained our eyes to try to see farther ahead of us, hoping to make out the sight of a house or a source of water, or the shape of a sign somewhere along the side. But it seemed like Daryl was right – we really were out in the boonies. No houses, no real signs, nothin' but woods and grass and dirt road. It was weirdly silent, too, with only the singing of birds and the humming of cicadas coming from the trees. I got lost in the crunch of our boots in the dirt and the insistent heat beatin' down on my skin and through my clothes and the air hanging around me, damp and heavy and suffocating. I started regretting ever thinkin' it might've been getting closer to cold weather – I jinxed it by thinking that. We could only get so lucky to have a day with less humidity than heat. But that was probably two more months away. Not to mention, I noticed we'd almost finished the bottle of water we'd been passing back and forth, and I knew there were only 2 left. There were a couple of small sips left and I tipped one down the back of my desert-dry throat, then passed the bottle to Daryl, hoping he'd appreciate getting the last bit. But he tipped it into his mouth like it was nothin' and shoved the empty bottle into his bag. At least I had tried to savor my last sip…

"Gonna have to head into the woods soon, look for somethin' to eat. Doesn't look like we'll be findin' anythin' to eat out here anytime soon."

"What about findin' a sign?" I reminded him as we continued walking, slowly reaching the peak of a big hill.

"We can think about that after findin' dinner. We been walkin' for hours," he pointed out.

I glanced in the direction of the sun and realized he was right. And now that I thought about it, my stomach was feelin' awfully empty. How long ago had it been since we'd shared that can of food in the back of the car? The sun said it was getting pretty close to evening, but I couldn't be totally sure. Especially since I can't even figure out what exactly the seasons are doing – changin' slow or fast or not at all.

We walked until our shadows grew longer beside us. I kept my eyes peeled but nothin' peaked our interest. It seemed like nothin' but woods and empty road all around us. I didn't realize how far down the sun had gotten until a breeze tickled my face and fluttered my hair and actually sent tiny chills through my body. I hadn't been imagining it after all – it really was getting colder. At least when the sun wasn't beating down on us, anyway. I could feel the chill spreading out around us, like it was eatin' away at the humidity that tried to suffocate us.

We both must've spotted it at the same time because our pace slowed simultaneously. I squinted and tried to strain my eyes to make it out, but all I could see was a small, dark shape a ways down the road we were following. I glanced at Daryl and knew he saw it, too, because he was making the same squinty-eyed face trying to identify it. I realized we still hadn't ventured into the woods like he'd suggested, and now it was getting dangerously close to nightfall to risk leaving the safety of the open road. I hoped he had a plan, but if he didn't, I was already going through things in my own head, hopin' I could come up with a helpful idea.

"Looks like yer truck," he grumbled, our paces still slow and cautious as we continued to stare at the far-off shape.

I looked over at him in surprise and couldn't help but smirk a little. "So I was right."

He shrugged, and I thought I caught a smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he forced it away. "'Course. You can tell the difference between car and truck tire tracks, 'member?"

I rolled my eyes at the smugness in his voice as he repeated my own words to me. Our pace quickened a little. The shape hadn't moved since it had come into view, and if he was right and it was the truck belonging to the robber's, then maybe we'd get lucky and find it abandoned.

"You wanna check it out? We gotta find food," I reminded him, glancing around at the darkening woods surrounding us. The thought of entering them again made me uneasy after the bad experiences we'd just narrowly escaped. I knew I shouldn't, but the open road made me feel so much easier, even though it technically wasn't even as safe as the cover of the trees.

He sighed, sounding tired and hungry and a little annoyed. "Might as well. Doesn't look like whoever took it is doin' much with it. 'Sides, it's gettin' too dark to try to hunt anything now. Least we can do is find a safe spot to get some sleep."

I silently agreed and we continued walking. Even though we were both tired and hungry, we tried to walk fast enough to beat the sunset. The horizon was just turning that dark shade of orange when we finally came within a dozen yards of the truck – of course, he'd been right, and it was in fact the truck that had been stolen from the gruesome scene we came upon. He slowed down when we got closer and his steps were more cautious. His head was on a constant swivel, lookin' around in every direction and listening hard for any hints of other people, alive or dead. I followed his lead and kept my hand on my knife, ready to unsheathe and defend myself at any moment. But the only sounds we encountered were crickets and the few cicadas still humming in the trees, and the chilly breeze rustling leaves and branches all around us. I shivered involuntarily.

Once we'd examined the scene, it became pretty clear that somethin' had gone down in these robber's attempts to leave. It's anybody's guess where they were planning on going, but they got stopped pretty abruptly. The truck was a big, black Ford that could seat 5 or 6 people inside with a generous bed in the back that was stuffed full of garbage bags and boxes. They'd shut the vehicle off and it sat silently, but all the doors were open and there was a beeping sound coming from inside indicating that the doors were open and the keys were still in the ignition. Daryl rushed to the cab as soon as the sound reached his ears and yanked the keys out, silencing the truck. We were lucky it hadn't been loud enough to attract Walkers. We walked around the vehicle and examined the scene from every angle, still poised and ready to strike in case somethin' popped up. But the area seemed to be pretty deserted and quiet.

I don't like to admit it, but I was kinda happy by what we found. After seeing the group of people a few miles back shot and killed mercilessly – even the children – I had been secretly hoping for the worst outcome for whoever had committed such a disgusting act. I know it's wrong to wish for the worst in this world, especially when the worst is around us at all times, but there are so many evil people who are flourishing in this Hell On Earth, and it makes me sick to think they might actually be enjoyin' their lives while they bring pain and suffering down on innocent survivors. I mean, children? How cold can a person possibly be? But then again, that's a real stupid question, huh? You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now after seeing what's happened to every defenseless child I've come across. After what happened at the prison. I still can't help but wonder if that's what Daryl sees me as – another defenseless child that he doesn't want to see brutalized and gunned down or eaten alive like all the others. I suppose our moment in the wrecked car should assure me that that's definitely not what he thinks, but it hasn't completely convinced me.

The truck was spattered with blood, both fresh and bright red as well as old and dark black. There were a few Walkers put down by blades through their skulls lying in front of the truck, and one of the Walkers was sprawled across the hood, his bottom half shredded and embedded into the grill of the truck. It looked like the robbers had tried to drive their way through a group of Walkers but ended up getting more than they bargained for. The windshield was cracked and bloody, and there were a lot of blood spots on the interior of the cab along with an impaled corpse lying across the seat. A wide pool of deep, red blood and chunks of flesh, bone, and clothing lay in one spot off to the side, near the woods, and I wondered what had happened to the Walker who'd feasted on someone there. I hoped it had been put down soon after, because otherwise, it might still be nearby, fat and slow and still hungry for more flesh. But I didn't feel any sympathy for whoever had been the human feast.

"Jackpot," Daryl's voice chimed in and shook me from my thoughts and investigation. I looked to where he was and saw him hop up onto the tailgate of the truck, his crossbow thrown back over his shoulder in rest. He stepped carefully into the packed bed of the truck and started opening garbage bags and boxes, rifling through them. I kept looking around, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement around us. He started dumping the contents of all the bags and boxes into the bed, tossing the empty containers onto the ground. I heard cans rattling against the plastic lining of the bed, sounds softened by the cushioning of clothes and blankets. When I felt somewhat at ease by the lack of noise or movement around us, I decided to join him and hopped up into the bed as well, helping him sort through things. The first thing I noticed was a bunch of toys, mostly stuffed animals, and I immediately thought of the children with their hands behind their backs and bullet holes through the backs of their skulls. Then I thought of Judith and the kids we'd lost at the prison. It sent a pang of longing through me. I had to stop myself from shoving all the toys I found into my bag, knowing it would look stupid and pointless to Daryl.

"Looks like we could find some shit that fits us. There's food, too," he grunted, collecting cans and placing them inside his bag that he'd taken off his shoulder.

He must've noticed the chilly breeze, too, because I saw him snatch up a heavier flannel shirt and a thermal sweater. He was working on untangling a pair of longjohns from a very dirty pair of pantyhose when something caught my eye from the ground next to the truck. I leaned over the side and looked at the grass next to the road, noticing spots of blood that led into a trail heading into the woods. I hopped over the side and onto the ground and walked softly next to the line of blood stains. They were almost dried on the leaves beneath me and I noticed how they became spottier and farther between the closer I got to the tree line. I stopped before the shadows engulfed me, squinting into the darkness of the trees and trying to see if I could make out any movement or out-of-place shadows. But everything was still and mostly silent.

I turned back towards Daryl and the truck and that's when the metal lyin' in the grass caught my eye, pushing the thought of whose blood trail that was from my mind. The sun was lowering quicker than ever and with the dusky light I still had, I could see a road sign had been knocked down by the truck and was on the ground, covered in blood with a decapitated Walker corpse lying on top of it. I stepped over quickly and quietly and nudged the body aside with the tip of my boot, uncovering the bold, black letters on the sign. It was a mile marker.

"Daryl!" I let out in excitement, spinning around to see him look up and over at me in surprise. He relaxed when he saw my smile and stepped down out of the truck bed to join me.

He eyed the sign below us and smirked. "Well, there ya go."

I was ecstatic to finally have found somethin' we'd actually wanted to find. Now we had an idea of where we were, and I could think about where to go. Before I could say anything, though, he thrust his hand out in front of me, a gray piece of clothing clenched in his fist. I took it gently and held it up to inspect. He'd found me a heavy, gray cardigan to wear over my polo shirt. I couldn't hold back my grin.

"Thank you," I said, looking into his tired, blue eyes. I think I might've seen them light up just a bit, and he smiled for a second before he turned away and looked back at the truck in deliberation.

"Gotta get somewhere safe to sleep for the night. Found some cans of food, too, so we can eat," he grunted, looking back and forth from the truck to the woods next to us.

"Sleep in the truck?" I tried to guess what he was planning.

He looked at me and nodded. "Let's see if it still runs, try to get under some cover."

I stood next to the door while he sat in the driver's seat of the big Ford and tried turning it on with the keys that had been left (after we pushed the impaled body out of the cab through the passenger's side door, of course). I heard the engine turn over but it was feeble and weak and didn't last nearly long enough for us to have any hope of getting it to run. If it had any gas, it was probably messed up by the crash with the sign and the Walkers.

Daryl sighed, disappointed. "Might see if I can find the problem tomorrow. Too dark now, though. Help me push it into the trees far enough so we can't be seen from the road."

I nodded in agreement and thought about what could happen if some unpleasant people drove by while we slept and decided our truck looked worth taking, as well as our supplies. I guess we both preferredfightin' the possible Walkers in the woods, under the cover of darkness and plants.

It took all our remaining strength to push the huge truck across the grass, move the bodies out of the way and into the nearby trees, and finally get the vehicle far enough between the trees to be hard to see from the road at night. We were both covered in sweat again and breathing heavy when we finally stopped, and I was silently longing for what food he might've found. We climbed into the darkened cab with our weapons and bags around us and settled in to rest. I was happy to see him pull out a jar of peanut butter from his bag, as well as a couple of cans of beans and a fresh bottle of water. We were so ravenous that we didn't even bother with forks this time – as soon as he got the cans open, we dove in with our hands and shared the jar of peanut butter between us. The breeze kept pickin' up and blowing into the open window on the passenger side, drying the last of the sweat from our hair and necks and making me weirdly tired and satisfied at the same time. Or maybe it was the filling meal in my aching stomach.

I was so relaxed and relieved to feel comfortable again, if even for a short while, that I offered to take first watch after we ate, so Daryl could finally catch up on his rest. He was beginning to look dead on his feet, and I noticed how droopy his eyes got once we'd finished eating. Neither of us said much, being so drained, but I still felt wide awake.

Right before he slipped into the backseat of the cab to lie down and stretch out, Daryl turned to me and I couldn't figure out what the look on his face meant. It didn't help that the cab was mostly dark now, and he was shrouded by shadows. But before I realized what he was doin', he leaned in and gave me a soft peck on the cheek with his chapped lips and then turned away and climbed into the back, not sayin' another word. I sat still for a moment, a little stunned.

Even if he'd been lookin' at me, it was too dark for him to see the big smile on my face when I turned back around to keep watch outside of the truck.

_-E.G._


	8. Entry #8

I don't know what I was thinkin'. Looking back now, it was foolish and I should've woken Daryl up, asked him to help cover me in case anything happened. I should've known. Something always happens. I can't explain this feeling I get sometimes, like an urge, where I suddenly feel impulsive… like I wanna just go for it, take a chance, do something that scares me but that I know should be done. Sometimes I get a weird burst of courage. And I think in the end, being scared is part of surviving.

I kept watch while Daryl slept. My legs were dangling from the side of the open driver's door and I was turning my knife over and over in my hands, slowly scanning the darkness of the trees that surrounded us. I could barely hear his steady breathing from the backseat. It gets so eerily quiet at night that I think I may be goin' deaf from my own thoughts. I perked up a couple of times when I heard small creatures scurrying across the ground nearby, but their tiny feet were no comparison to the sounds of a Walker dragging their human feet through the dirt. I wished we had a flashlight so I could've tried to shoot a couple of animals with Daryl's crossbow, which he'd left lying in the passenger seat for quick access.

I put both hands on the back of my seat and peeked over the top of it into the backseat, barely able to see his sleeping figure in the darkness. The moonlight was barely squeezing through the trees and leaves above us to give me any sight. I assumed the battery of the big Ford truck was dead because the dome light didn't come on at all while the doors were open. It was probably for the better though, I thought. He looked peaceful, from what I could see. I wondered if finding the mile marker and the safety of the truck had made him a little more relaxed like it had for me. I watched him for a while, wishing I could curl up next to him and rest my eyes. Sleep was the only time he didn't look troubled or exhausted. I sometimes feel like he'd be better off without me around to worry about and slow him down.

I watched him for a while, ears still perked for any sounds around us, but my mind wandering with all sorts of thoughts. I might sound like I'm goin' a little… crazy, but sometimes it can be easy to forget how dangerous the world is at all times. I mean, something happens where we'll be secluded and it's all quiet around us and we haven't seen a Walker in hours and – even worse – it's totally dark and silent, like here, and I'll start thinking. And thinking. And just… thinking. I get lost in my own head, and there's times I think I might have nodded off without realizing it because I'll see people or things that aren't there. I can usually snap myself out of it but it's odd. I'm a little scared. This whole thing, everything that's happened, doesn't feel real sometimes. What is this world doing to us? To our minds, to our hearts…?

I was feeling like that again, gettin' lost in my own head. Daryl was sleeping like a rock. My back was getting sore and my eyelids were starting to get heavy so I decided I'd better stand and stretch before I accidentally dozed off. I kept my knife in my hand and hopped out of the truck, stepping lightly on the soft earth of the woods and lifting my arms to raise my hands toward the sky. I stretched my muscles out and tried to blink myself awake, still looking around and trying to discern shapes from shadows. I thought of the mile marker and where Maggie could be. I thought of what Daddy would say if he saw me learning how to track and hunt and sleepin' in a truck with Daryl Dixon.

When I'd finished stretching out my aching muscles, a noise came from somewhere distant and snapped me out of my daydreams. I glanced in the direction it seemed to sound from. I squinted my eyes and then opened them wider, trying to force myself to see in the darkness. The noise continued and I was sure now of which direction it was coming from, so I took a couple of cautious steps forward. My boots made barely any noise on the dying greenery and I held my breath for longer than I realized. When I finally exhaled, I realized I'd walked close enough to finally make out the shadowy figure of a squirming shape that didn't look like it was touching the ground. I was confused and curious, and it seemed to be a mistake – maybe it was a wild animal caught in a trap? I didn't feel like I needed to wake Daryl just for this. He'd probably tell me to leave it until morning anyway, considering how dark it was. Besides, I had my knife on me.

I kept stepping closer, squinting harder and harder to try to figure out exactly what the shape and the movement was. I held my knife in my hand in a defensive position, my other arm raised to protect myself in case anything appeared in front of me. The more I studied the moving shadow, the more uneasy I felt about the way it moved and the sounds it was making. I was finally hearing it clearer now, coming within 50 feet, 40 feet, my slow steps bringing me closer than I realized… Just as I stepped close enough and into the right spot that a small beam of moonlight illuminated half of the mysterious figure, my foot touched the ground and I moved to take another step but suddenly, I couldn't. Somethin' wrapped around my ankle almost too quickly for me to process, and before I could understand what was happening, the entire world was being flipped upside-down. Literally. My left leg was jerked upward and the rest of my body followed, knife and all. When I came to a rest, I was hanging upside-down from a tree branch, a rope I hadn't seen wrapped around my ankle tightly and my shirt slipping up my torso to reveal bare skin while my hair dangled from my head – ripe for grabbing. I immediately felt the blood startin' to rush to my head, and I looked beside me to the figure that I'd finally seen distinctly – the full-bellied Walker that had had its feast on a very unfortunate man back by the road. I suddenly remembered the blood trail I'd seen earlier that led into the woods – I'd forgotten about it as soon as I'd spotted the mile marker. I should've pointed it out to Daryl, or followed it to check it out, but it had escaped my thoughts so quickly. The Walker's stomach was nearly bursting with human flesh, and its decaying face was covered in bright red blood and bits of gray brain matter and purple intestines. It was obviously slowed down considerably by its weight and disproportionate body – it hadn't gotten nearly as far into the woods as it normally would've - and I quickly realized it was hanging from a trap exactly like mine just a few trees away. It had smelled me but now it saw me and its jaws were snappin' like crazy, teeth clicking together like a malicious threat. It had been struggling lightly before, causing it to sway back and forth and squirm in mid-air, but now at the temptation of food, it was absolutely fighting, writhing and wriggling and reaching its bloody, mangled hands out towards me. I squinted in the dim moonlight and saw its legs – already skinny and decayed dangerously close to bone, the one that was held from the tree by the rope was being severely strained by rest of the Walker's weight, and its soggy skin and muscle tissue was already stretching and tearing and threatening to give out. It was only a matter of minutes before this dead-eyed creature would fall to the ground and start crawlin' or hobbling its way to me to continue eating until it would literally burst at the seams.

Should I scream? I was already punishing myself silently for walking this far away from the truck, this close to somethin' I didn't recognize, and being this unprepared to get caught in such a stupid trap. But screaming would wake up Daryl and bring him to help me – then it might also attract a whole herd of Walkers in the distance.

But I thought of what Daryl's been teaching me, what Maggie would say, what Daddy would think – and I told myself, I can take care of myself. I got myself into this, I can get myself out. I don't need saving.

Forcing myself not to scream or whimper, just in case there was anything closer by than I wanted, I stretched my arm upward and bent myself towards my own foot as hard as I could. I stretched and strained and nearly fainted from the attempt, but just as my blade touched the rope and made a tiny cut, I lost my strength and fell limp again, gasping for breath. I suddenly realized I was not prepared for a situation like this. Who even used these traps anymore? Were they leftover from before The Turn, or were they someone's extra protective measure? Extra random, weird, and kinda useless protective measure…

I heard the sickening sounds of cracking bone and ripping muscle tissue and looked over to see the Walker's rotting leg losing its last strands of connection. The flesh was tearing apart and the bone was separating from itself, urged on by the constant struggle and sudden whipping turns of the Walker's body. I winced as it finally disconnected from its own foot and ankle and fell to the ground in a disgusting heap. It took a moment to right itself and find its footing, but it still had its empty, hungry eyes set on me, jaw stretching and snapping in anticipation. It tried to stand but fell over quickly when its weight became uneven without the other foot to rest on. I struggled harder, forcing myself to bend and strain and try to reach my own rope to cut myself free, but no matter how much my adrenaline pumped and my brain told my body, THIS IS IT WE HAVE TO DO THIS, I just could not do it. The Walker was crawling towards me now, its useless remaining leg dragging along on the ground behind it. Its teeth were grinding just at the sight of my living flesh, and I was to the point of tears from fear. I knew what I had to do, though, so I watched it intently while it got closer and closer. I had my knife up and ready, and I kept my eyes on one particular spot on its head that looked mushy and rotten. I tried to steady my breathing and blink my tears away, but they just slid down into my hair. I thought of Daryl sleeping in the truck and prayed that there were no Walkers wandering by that would climb in while I was stuck here. It would be all my fault. I still felt the urge to scream for him.

The Walker crawled and crawled, one of its fingers breaking off on a rock just a few feet away from me. It got close enough that I could hear the wet gurgling in its throat, like it was so overflowing with flesh that it was choking. It craned its neck out and up, reachin' a hand towards my dangling hair to pull me towards its mouth, but as soon as it was within reach, I used my free hand to firmly grasp the thickest part of its arm that I hoped wouldn't cave in or tear away, and with the other hand, I shoved the blade of my knife as hard as I could into its head, trying to keep my eyes on my target and not on the glazed, bloodshot eyes that were locked onto me. It was leaning in for the first bite much faster than I could've expected, but I stopped it just inches away from my face. Tears still blurred my vision and slid down my forehead, but I relaxed as soon as I felt the body of the Walker go limp in my hand and beneath my blade. I yanked back and freed my knife, letting go of the arm at the same time, and the Walker fell to the ground, finally silent and at rest. I wondered how long it had taken that thing to devour that whole human being earlier in the day. Then I wondered how long it'd take it to devour me, bone and all. Probably not even long enough for Daryl to find me if I didn't scream.

I let out a shuddery breath and wiped my face dry with my sleeve. I cleaned the blade of my knife on my jeans and then looked around, especially alert for any movement now. I hoped the sounds of the Walker and our struggle hadn't attracted any more. I tried again, with all my remaining strength, to bend and stretch to cut myself free from the rope, but my muscles kept giving out before I could reach high enough.

I finally gave in. I'd have to call for Daryl. There was no way I was getting out on my own. I couldn't reach the rope to cut it and the branch it was tied to was way too thick and sturdy for my weight to break it. I looked around one last time, relieved to not see any movement or hear anything out of place, and inhaled deeply.

"Daryl...!" I called, barely more than a whisper at first. I listened and waited for a moment, silently urging him to wake up and hear me, or notice I was gone. But there was nothing. I willed myself to call out louder, "Daryl!" Again, I stopped and listened. I thought I could hear rustling somewhere nearby, but I couldn't tell what direction it was coming from or how close it was. Crickets chirped in the background and it felt like they were mockin' me.

I didn't make any more sounds and the noises I'd thought I heard stopped, too. I convinced myself it was my imagination hoping to hear Daryl coming for me and built up the courage to call out again. Maybe he just couldn't tell where I was.

"Daryl!"

This time, I was certain there was noise. Someone or something was moving close by, and coming closer. My heart raced and my head pounded from all the blood rushing to it. I prayed, please be Daryl, please be Daryl, please be Daryl…

Of course, it wasn't him.

I squirmed from the rope, twisting and turning in every direction, searching desperately to try to make out what was coming towards me. The movement was in more than one place, and I could make out multiple footsteps. My knuckles were white from how tightly I was gripping my knife. An ominous sound finally reached my ears, sending waves of panic through me – groans and growls. Walkers. Their footsteps became more distinct, dragging along the ground and crunching dead leaves and sticks in their wake. It was coming from all sides, but I still couldn't make out any shapes in the darkness around me.

I writhed desperately, finally trying my last hope of slipping my foot from my boot to free myself, but the rope was wound so tightly around my ankle that it was cuttin' off circulation, and there was no hope of even slipping my sock off, let alone my whole boot. I was breathing heavily, looking around frantically and holding my hand and knife up in a defensive position, half-expecting something to jump outta the darkness and attack me. Was this it? Was this how I was gonna go – stuck in an oddly-placed rope trap, hanging from a tree, completely helpless? If I'm gonna go out, I wanna be fighting when it happens.

I don't know if I've ever thought that before until now, being out here with Daryl. The longer it's been, the more I don't even recognize the girl that tried to open her wrists and die in the bathroom of a farmhouse. I'm a survivor.

I was sweating now, and more frightened tears were leaking from my eyes, all of it mixing and sliding down my face into my hair while I dangled from the tree, completely useless. I prayed for some light, for a miracle of sorts, for something to wake Daryl up and bring him to help me. One crawling Walker? I could handle it. But I had no idea how many were coming for me at this moment and they all sounded like their legs were having no trouble carrying them to me.

I kept myself quiet and didn't call for Daryl again, afraid it would bring the Walkers right to me if they hadn't already figured out my exact location. Maybe most of them would wander by and not be able to find me. I could hope, right?

I tried to look in all directions at once but it was obviously impossible. Shadows started emerging from the pitch-black darkness and I could tell by their staggered movement and the shapes of their bodies that they were all Walkers. At least I didn't have to worry about any dangerous people findin' me. Off to my right, almost in the direction of Daryl and the truck, there were 2 Walkers limping for me, jaws slack and eyes set on my writhing form. When I glanced in the opposite direction, I saw 3 more Walkers emerging from behind trees, a little farther away than the other 2. More growls caught my ear and I turned towards the direction of the tree that the original Walker had been hanging from and saw another one staggering out of the dark bushes, most of its cheek torn away and one eye missing. I was surrounded.

"DARYL!" I screamed as loudly as I could, pushing past the giant knot that had formed in my throat and the tears that were threatening to pour from my eyes. The fear pulsing through me pushed away all thoughts of what I could be attracting from farther off. Right now, I needed help, or I'd be a feast for at least 5 walking corpses.

I spun in each direction and tried to calculate which one was closest to me and the biggest threat so I could figure out how to kill it, but they had all quickened their pace at the sound of my scream. Their groans and growls got louder and hungrier, and their teeth started snapping in excitement for their next meal. I inhaled a deep breath and forced myself to stop shakin', then put all my air behind another yell for help, but before it could reach my throat, I was shaken by a surprisingly loud growl coming from right behind me. I spun around in the air and found my face directly aligned with the bottom half of a particularly dirty, scratched-up young man whose clothing was torn to shreds and was still fresh enough to have a quicker pace than all the others. He'd cleared the space between us way faster than I'd expected and walked around the body of the Walker I'd killed, and now he was within arm's reach of me. He reached out wildly with his uncoordinated limbs and I did the first thing that came to mind, which was to stretch my own arm out and yank his legs out from under him as hard as I could. He lost his balance and collapsed onto his backside right before he could grab me and I readied myself to stab him. Before I could blink, he'd sat straight up and was reachin' out for me again with both dirty, bloody hands, and I shoved my knife into his approaching face, catching him right in one glazed eyeball. The blade of my knife plunged into the soft tissue and deep into his brain, and he went limp right in front of me. I had to yank up and backwards to release his head from my blade so his body could fall back at rest. I spun around again, heart racing and adrenaline pumping, prepared to find another Walker just feet away and ready to bite into me, but instead I found a beautiful sight: a well-aimed bolt shot directly through the head of the Walker that was closest to me and coming from near the direction of the truck, the sharp point emerging from the middle of her forehead and sending her falling face-first into the dirt and leaves. My heart leapt when the body collapsed and revealed Daryl taking aim with his crossbow no more than 20 feet behind her and the other Walker that was still heading towards me. My fear instantly left me and I felt a giant burst of courage – thankfully, the life-saving kind and not the reckless kind from before – and I knew I had to help him or he'd get swarmed by the oncoming Walkers.

I slung myself upwards as hard as I could, putting every ounce of strength I had left into it, knowing this was necessary now, more than even before, and I had to help Daryl or we'd both get hurt. I don't know what happened compared to before and I can't explain where I found my strength, but I finally managed to hoist myself just high enough that I could reach the rope with my knife, for just as long as it took to slice through the fibers and finally cut myself down from the branch. The rope snapped when it broke and the sound echoed off the trees around us. I felt a sharp burst of cold air hit my exposed skin as I dropped from the rope and plummeted to the ground below, head-first.

"Beth - !" I heard, right before I felt simultaneous cracks in the back of my skull and my lower spine. Then everything went black.

_-E.G._


	9. Entry #9

It felt like I'd been asleep for hours. When I finally came to, my head was throbbing, my back ached like I'd broken something, and I was groggy and confused. I blinked my eyes open and felt them watering and found mostly darkness around me. My ears had a faint ringing in them, but I heard Daryl's voice through it – loud and anguished. I realized the shaking of my body wasn't the earth moving around me, but Daryl's arms around my torso, shakin' me frantically. And the weight on my chest wasn't anything on top of me except Daryl leaning his head into me, pressing his ear against my sternum, his voice vibrating my ribcage as he continued crying out.

"Beth… Beth! C'mon, don't do this, please, come back – Beth! Wake up, please," I'd heard bits and pieces before opening my eyes but they were coming clearer to me now, finally processing in my brain. "C'mon, get up, Beth – don't leave me, ple-please, just…"

He had raised his head again to look down at me and I saw in the dim moonlight how his eyes widened when he saw that I was awake. I wasn't sure if it was sweat or tears on his cheeks but it looked more like tears to me. I was looking at him, confused, still trying to understand where I was and what had happened. My head was foggy and I felt like I could close my eyes and sleep for a couple days. For a glimmer of a blissful moment, I forgot where we were and wondered where Maggie and Daddy were, but then it hit me all over again and I was dragged back down to the pain of reality. My head throbbed harder. I felt somethin' wet trickle into my left eyebrow.

"Ohmy – Beth! Beth, are you okay?!" Daryl cried breathlessly, ceasing his shaking of my body and brushing hair away from my face to inspect me closer. His eyes searched me for wounds – I think he might've been unsure if I was a Walker or not, for just a second – and then I felt his finger gently brush my head just above where I'd felt the wetness and I flinched in pain. "You hit yer head pretty hard, you're bleedin'. Can ya get up? We gotta move, fast."

He was back in survival mode but I hadn't quite gotten that far yet. I looked around us and painfully moved my neck around to see the surrounding area. The Walkers I'd remembered seeing surround us were all lying in motionless piles on the ground, not far from where they'd been before I fell. I saw Daryl's crossbow lying in some leaves a few feet away. It looked like it'd been tossed aside in a hurry.

"Jesus, ya scared the hell outta me - what were you thinkin'?! Why'd you come out this far without wakin' me up?" He was racing through his words and I could see that his mind was workin' even faster. His face was still pale from fright and his grip on me hadn't loosened. "Thought you were dead, fer Christ's sake…"

My throat was sore and my voice came out cracked. "I – I dunno, I'm sorry. I heard somethin' and tried to follow the sound an' – "

"Oh, god, Beth – " he interrupted me to slide his hand out from underneath my head and whatever he saw when he did so made him go pale again. "Shit, you're bleeding. A lot."

Fear struck me when I looked at his hand to see the palm covered in thick, red blood. And it was mine.

"Wha – " I lifted my hands and reached back to inspect the back of my head. It throbbed to the touch and there was a big lump underneath a wet, matted tangle of hair. I remembered the crack I'd felt on the back of my skull right before I'd passed out. No wonder my head hurt so badly. I reached up and touched the spot on my forehead that had made me flinch and realized it was a superficial cut that was already drying and scabbing. I hadn't even realized the ground was so littered with sharp rocks when I'd been hanging from the tree.

"Don't touch it," he scolded, yanking my hands away from both wounds on my head. His face was creased with worry. He looked around cautiously, presumably for Walkers. I was relieved to find that he'd killed the ones that found us, but now there was no telling how many more were on their way if my screams had echoed through the woods along with Daryl's yells. "We gotta get you back to the truck, clean it up and wrap it. Can ya walk?"

He slipped his arms out from beneath me and let me rest on the ground while he stood up, grabbing his crossbow from the ground nearby and slinging it over his shoulder. As if on cue, I heard the hungry growls of a Walker, and I forced myself to sit upright. When I looked in the direction of the growls straight ahead of me, I saw a rotted, muddy man missing one ear and half his jaw limping towards us out of the shadows. His pace was surprisingly quick. I glanced back to see Daryl had already spotted it and was scrambling around to the bodies of the defeated Walkers, snatchin' up the bolts he'd used to kill them and hurriedly trying to load his crossbow. Before he could take aim at the Walker that was quickly approaching me, a low snarl snapped his attention to the opposite direction, and I realized there was another Walker emerging from the trees with its white eyes set on Daryl, quickly closing the half a dozen feet that separated them.

I hadn't felt an appropriate reaction at first. It was almost like I was numb, or still half-asleep and unable to force myself to be a part of reality. I watched Daryl shoot the Walker near him just before it made its final leap at his throat, as if it were a movie. As that Walker fell to the ground, a bolt protruding from its eye, and Daryl rushed to load another bolt, a second Walker appeared as if from thin air, materializing from the shadows and stumbling towards Daryl. He nearly fell over as he stepped back to take aim and penetrate its skull with his second bolt. I couldn't seem to take my eyes off the scene, or force myself to just get the hell up and HELP him. The only thing that snapped me out of it was the menacing clicks of a half-missing jaw, followed by monstrous moans. I spun my head back around to face in front of me and found the first Walker had reached me. It was too late to get up and run now. But that didn't stop me from tryin'.

I pressed my palms into the rough earth below me and used all the strength I could find to force myself to stand. The Walker was within seconds of being on top of me. I successfully stood up on both feet and just as I took a step to further the distance between us, I quickly realized the snare that had entrapped my ankle had cut off the circulation long enough to make my leg fall asleep, and I still hadn't regained full feeling. I cried out in surprise as my leg gave out underneath me and buckled under my weight, sending me topplin' backwards to the ground. The Walker spotted my weakness and couldn't wait any longer for its next meal, and it leaned forward and fell onto me, sending me onto my back again, its half-jaw wide open and snapping for my skin. Its rancid breath was oddly hot on my face and the smell of pure death made my stomach turn over. I pushed at its chest as hard as I could with both hands, putting all my weight into it and trying to force the thing off of me. The best I could do was keep its head back and away from biting distance of my face. It dawned on me that I was unarmed when I instinctively reached, with one hand, for the knife that was always at my belt and found nothing but an empty holster. I glanced over and spotted it in the ground barely two feet away. It must've fallen there after I'd cut myself down and been knocked out. I kept one hand on the soggy chest of the Walker on top of me and reached desperately for my knife, stretching my arm as far as it would go and straining my fingers to grasp for it, continually falling just inches short. It's safe to say my adrenaline was now pumping like it should've been, and I was terrified for my life.

"Beth!"

All I could think was, thank God... A split second after his voice reached my ears, a bolt shot through the air and whizzed past the top of my head, piercing the left side of the Walker's forehead and reemerging from the back of its bloody skull. The monster immediately fell still, all its weight slumping onto me and the head drooping from the neck. Without its resistance, I was able to finally push it off of me, shoving it off to the side and taking a deep, wonderful breath of fresh air. Before I could make another attempt to stand, Daryl was at my side, breathless and pale again.

"Jesus… did it get you?!" he asked, frantic. His eyes were searching me for any signs of a bite as he reached out to grab my hands and help me up.

I shook my head. "No, it-it was about to. But it didn't."

Ya know, when I think about how many close calls I've had, and Daryl's had, and all the people I know that are still alive, how many times they came within seconds of death, it makes me wonder. But then I just tell myself that surviving in this… life is nothin' but close calls. No one is here anymore who hasn't had a brush with death. Some of us have looked it straight in its eyes. And we just keep walking away. But for how long?

I took Daryl's hands gratefully and leaned into him as I stood up. He threw my arm around his shoulders and held me up at the hip. My leg was shaky as pins and needles shot through it, but I kept both feet planted firmly on the ground. I mostly relied on Daryl's balance since both legs were pretty weak, and for the first few moments of standing upright, the world was tilting around me. My back ached even worse now. It felt like the spot I'd already bruised the day before had hit something hard and become worse. I cringed in pain but tried to stay silent. Daryl spotted the look of agony on my face even in the dark.

"You sure yer alright? Is yer leg broke?" He questioned me, refusing to move while he leaned down just slightly to examine it.

"No-no, I'm fine, it's just asleep. The rope cut off my circulation. I'm fine, I can walk," I insisted, trying to pull my arm away and walk on my own. I didn't want him fussing that much over me.

"No, you're not. Stop," he growled firmly, and I had no choice but to obey when my leg tried to betray me and give out underneath my weight again. I gave in and let him support most of my weight while we hobbled together back in the direction of the truck.

We had only gotten a few feet away when I saw him glance down to the side of my belt and then stop, a quizzical look on his face as he met my eyes. "Where's yer knife?"

"Back there," I pointed with the hand that wasn't leaning on his shoulder to the spot where we'd just been.

He stopped and carefully leaned me against a tree for support, then jogged over and collected my knife, as well as the bolts he'd sent into the heads of the Walkers. I watched him come back to me and slip the blood-speckled knife into my holster with care before storing his bolts away in their spot on his crossbow. When we had our weapons again, he put my arm back around his shoulders and all but carried me back to the truck as I insisted on tryin' to walk on my own feet next to him.

It took longer than it normally would have but we soon found ourselves back at the dark mass that was the tucked-away Ford and found it the same as it had been left, thankfully. The feeling had fully returned to my leg, but my ankle was still sore from the constriction.

"Can't believe you got caught in one o' those damn things," he muttered. I wasn't sure if he was saying this directly to me or more to himself.

"I'm sorry," I said meekly, tired and drained of all the fight in me. I felt dumber and dumber by the minute because I knew he was right to be upset with me. "I-I didn't see it. I've never even seen anyone use those."

"It's called a Tree Spring Noose. Ya see one, ya always check if there's others," he informed me. "I don't wanna find out who set 'em up either. We'd better bandage you up and wait for sunrise then get as far away from here as possible. If they're still around, they'll be comin' back to check 'em and it won't take long to figure out we're nearby."

I nodded as he opened the truck door and carefully sat me down in the passenger's seat, my legs hanging out and over the edge. The cushioned seat felt comfortable on my backside and I let out a sigh of relief. My leg was mostly back to normal but my head was feeling worse by the second. He climbed in on the driver's side and grabbed his bag from the backseat, opening it and going through it in the very little light we had. I guessed he must've found some first aid supplies in the bed of the truck earlier along with all the clothes and food. He started pulling things out and setting them on the seat between us. I saw a couple of cans, bottles of water, a paring knife, cotton swabs, a half-empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a handful of wadded-up shirts, most of them dirty. He tossed the bag to the floor and scooped up a few items then hopped back out of the truck and walked around to my side.

When he set his things down next to me, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and used it to dab hydrogen peroxide onto the cut on my forehead, cleaning away all the blood and dirt. It was so silent around us that I could hear Daryl's breathing and the light sizzling noise of the hydrogen peroxide on my skin as it ate away at the bacteria. He then turned me to the side and tilted my head so he could inspect the back of it, flipping my ponytail over my head and gently movin' my hair aside as best he could. I tried to stop myself from wincing or hissing out in pain but it was almost impossible. As he dabbed at it and cleaned it and even poked it a few times, sharp jolts of pain would shoot through my head and a couple of times, noises of pain escaped my throat without me even realizing it. He finally backed up and took off his vest, then moved to take off the black shirt he'd been wearing for days. I looked over curiously to see him take it off, inspect it closely, and then start ripping large pieces apart.

"What're you doing?!" I whispered loudly, outraged that he'd ruin a perfectly good shirt like that.

He looked at me and continued what he was doing without responding. When he finished, he made me turn my head back and then motioned for me to hold still while he held a bunch of cotton balls against the wound in the back of my head and tied the long, thin strips of cloth around my head, front-to-back, securing the cotton balls to add protection to my wound while coverin' the cut on my forehead at the same time. After a few wraps, he tied the ends of the cloth together just behind my left ear and then let my ponytail fall back into place. I had to admit, it felt a lot better already.

I turned back towards him and glanced at his shirtless form, still a bit pale but looking more angry than upset now – or maybe he was scared. He grabbed one of the shirts that he'd brought from the bag and unrolled it. I realized it was dirtier than the shirt he'd been wearing and now it made sense why he'd chosen to use that for a bandage instead of any of the clothing we'd found. Though the clothes were in good condition, they were in need of a serious wash, and most of them smelled pretty bad. I watched him put on the long-sleeved flannel shirt, its colors darkened by dirt and dust and grime.

"Thank you," I said quietly. It was all I could think of besides another 'sorry.'

He shrugged, tossing what was left of his shredded, black shirt into the bed of the truck. He walked back around and climbed into the driver's seat, leaning back and seeming to relax just a bit. He was sweaty and tired and I felt even worse than before because he looked like he hadn't gotten the sleep he'd intended to get. And that was my fault.

"I can still keep watch, if you wanna try to sleep – " I started.

"Can't," he cut me off. "You can't either. Might have a concussion. Gotta stay up and make sure you don't doze off. It'll be mornin' before too long anyway. We're leavin' at the first sign of light."

I nodded in agreement and looked away, staring outside at the darkness and shadows that still surrounded us and engulfed the woods. He was back to being stand-offish and I just felt like a burden. I recalled how he'd sounded when I had woken up. Had he really thought I was dead? He seemed distressed and lost. I don't think I've ever seen him react that way to much of anything. Would my death actually hurt him?

I know that sounds stupid. It's not exactly what I mean. I know he'd be hurt, at least a little, if I died. Daryl cares about pretty much everyone, I think, no matter how much he tries to hide it. And losing people affects him. A lot. I've seen it. But between my insistence on finding the others, learnin' to track, and helping people we come across, I've really always thought I was more of a burden on him, or an annoyance. It was always in the back of my head that if somethin' happened and he didn't have to worry about me anymore, it would be kind of a relief for him.

But when he thought I was actually dead… he seemed absolutely agonized.

Or maybe I'm misreadin' things. Daryl Dixon is, after all, one of the hardest people in the world to read.

We sat in silence for a long time. The sky gradually lightened and the stars went away and inch by inch, the forest became less shadows and more distinguishable shapes and colors. My head felt weird, sore and aching and heavy on my neck. At one point, I searched the bed of the truck and then every inch of the cab in hopes of finding a bottle of Aspirin or another pain reliever. But all I found was that Daryl had collected every useful thing already, and not one of those things was any sort of medicine. I felt dazed for a long time. I think Daryl must've been right and I had a concussion because I was unable to focus or feel like I was present for what felt like a long time afterwards, now that I'm thinkin' back on it. It was like I was walking around in a haze for a day or two.

When the first hints of sunlight broke the horizon, Daryl heaved a tired sigh and announced that we were leavin'. We both grabbed our bags, stuffed full of the things we'd found in the truck, and we stepped out onto the earth and started walking for the edge of the woods. I stopped and looked back at the truck, unsure.

"Didn't you wanna try to get it running?" I asked Daryl, surprised by the sound of my own voice after so many hours of silence.

He stopped and turned back to me, glancing at the truck as well. "Ain't worth the time. We're lucky more Walkers didn't come lookin' for us after all that noise. Let's head out 'fore whoever set those snares comes back."

I didn't move and continued staring at the truck, the blood all over its paint and the bits of flesh still embedded in its grill, for a little too long. Daryl had begun walking again but he realized I didn't follow and he stopped again, turning back once more. I saw his puzzled face in the corner of my eye but I somehow couldn't get myself to focus. I finally snapped myself out of it and returned his gaze, and he looked me up and down as if he was wonderin' if he'd missed a larger wound. But he didn't say anything, he just turned back and continued walking. I followed without a word.

We found the road fairly quick and emerged from the shadowy coverage of the woods to find the sun over the horizon and pouring hot, morning sunlight across everything. The brightness hurt my eyes and I squinted against it, putting up a hand to block my face from the direction of the sunrise. We trudged out of the grass and onto the road and began walking alongside it. One side was all woods and the other side had opened up to a wide, open field. It was overgrown with grass and weeds and the woods stood ominously on the far side of it. I tried to look out as far as I could but the sun was preventing me from straining my eyes that far. I chose to keep them staring ahead instead, occasionally glancin' down at my feet and getting lost in the act of watching my boots crunch the dirt and stray gravel beneath me.

We walked for what felt like a very short time. I was kinda confused when I realized the sun had risen high in the sky and my stomach was rumbling loudly. Daryl must've either noticed or felt the same because he decided we'd come far enough to find a spot to sit down and rest and eat something. The place where we sat down was still near the road but we were mostly covered by a well-placed cluster of trees just before the woods became thick. Daryl started digging for a fire and I wandered a few feet away to a large branch that had fallen to the ground. I managed to slide it along the ground with the tips of my boots and soon after, I had it resting near Daryl and his potential fire. I sat down and took my bag off, setting it beside my feet, and tried to relax my body. But sitting didn't feel a whole lot different from walking at this point. I watched Daryl as he continued digging.

"Could help there, princess," he grumbled in his low voice. I heard the bitterness in his tone but I noticed it was a little softer than normal, for some reason.

"Whadd'you want me to do?" I asked, looking around curiously.

"I dunno. Somethin'," he mumbled, his digging becoming a little angrier.

I sighed but looked around for ideas. I stood up and walked around the enclosure, findin' sticks suitable for kindling in a few different spots. I started collecting them, carrying them in the crook of my left am while I gathered them with the other. As I walked around, I noticed the sun had dimmed suddenly and I looked up at the sky. Dark clouds were sliding across the blue sky, stealing the sunlight as they grew. They stretched across the sun and made wide shadows all across the trees and grass. I heard a very faint rumble off in the distance, and the sky flashed from what looked like at least 10 miles away.

Daryl must've noticed me staring upwards in wonder because he looked up, too. "Gonna rain soon. Better get this fire goin' and make use of it before it reaches us."

I nodded but continued watching the dark clouds and their slow movement, mesmerized. I was jerked back to reality when I felt Daryl grabbing kindling from where it rested in my arm.

"Sorry," I apologized, handing the rest over and then helping him as he knelt down and assorted them into the small hole he dug. He didn't seem to hear me. His hands moved fast and he seemed frustrated so I chose to swallow any more words.

I wanted to try to make it up to him – all the hassle I'd put him through and the sleep I'd cost him – by doing something particularly useful. I stepped back from where he worked with the fire and started looking around, attempting to take in our surroundings. Some of my senses felt dulled in a way, like I'd been walking around all morning in a drowsy haze. But then my other senses seemed sharper, and I was getting lost in concentration a lot more often than I usually do. I racked my brain to think back and access the things Daryl has been teachin' me. It felt a little harder to remember certain things, but they started flowing back to me like muscle memory when I spotted fresh animal droppings on the ground nearby, just before the trees became thick. I stepped as lightly as I could to get closer and inspect it, kneeling down to get a closer view of the ground. I found a small trail that looked like tiny animal prints in the dirt leading away from the droppings. I followed them with my eyes, zoning in and tiptoeing along the dirt and dead leaves as I kept following the trail, occasionally poking aside leaves and sticks with the tip of my finger. My heart was beating faster as I crouched past more trees and followed the clues I was finding. Finally, I looked up and ahead of me to see a medium-sized rabbit, its fur grey and dirty, resting maybe 10 feet away next to a bush. My eyes widened and I held back a gasp, spinning around and creeping as quietly as I possibly could back towards Daryl. Once I was within earshot again, his back to me as he helped the burning fire grow in size before him, I called to him as quietly as I could.

"Daryl…"

He somehow heard me and looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question.

I jerked my head towards the rabbit in the woods, trying to convey to him that I'd found something, but he just stared at me, confused, for a long moment. I couldn't figure out how to make the appropriate facial expressions.

"Gimme your crossbow," I whispered sharply.

He looked intrigued as he stepped over to me and handed me the crossbow from his back, then followed me closely as I lead him to where the rabbit was. I let out a breath of relief when we found it still in the same spot, though it hopped nervously when we tried to take a step closer. I think it sensed us there.

I put the crossbow up to my face, mounted against me, just like I'd done so many times with Daryl. He stood directly behind me, almost leanin' into me, as I focused my sight and took aim at the twitching, grey ball of fur. I was having trouble steadying my shot and hesitated, and he noticed. I felt his hands come up and his body press against me from behind as he grasped my wrists and helped me hold the weapon correctly, and take certain aim. I was just about to release the pressure in my finger when the weight of Daryl against my back finally affected me and the giant bruise that had been re-bruised hours before struck me with pain, making me drop my arms down and lose the aim on my target, as well as cry out uncontrollably.

"Owwww!" I couldn't help it, it escaped me before I could check it and my eyes snapped shut in hurt for just a second. Once the wave of pain from my back passed and Daryl had jumped backward, unsure of what he'd done to hurt me, I opened my eyes and realized the rabbit had heard me, too. I'm still not sure how, but I instinctually snapped the crossbow back up and took aim again. I released the trigger. The rabbit was in mid-hop. The bolt shot through the air, but it felt like it took forever between me and my target. Suddenly, the grey ball of fur wasn't twitching anymore, and a deep red was leaking from its center around the bolt that skewered it.

I lowered the crossbow once more and stared at the sight, shocked at myself. How had I managed to do that? My heart leapt with pride nonetheless.

"What – "

I spun around, almost havin' forgotten Daryl was still there. He was staring at the rabbit, an incredulous look on his face. His eyes shot over and met mine and all I could do was quirk my eyebrows. The throbbing in my head finally softened.

"Feel like cookin'?" I asked.

I think I've officially seen him eat faster than he ever has before.

_-E.G._


	10. Entry #10

It started raining right after we'd finished eating, put our fire out, and buried the last bits of evidence of our presence. The droplets were small and intermittent at first, and for a second, I couldn't tell if it was rain or my own sweat that was makin' my skin wet. But then they started falling faster, and grew into real raindrops, pelting my face and dampening my hair. I chanced a glance upwards and saw the sky had gotten ominously dark. The clouds were covering the sun, but it still forced its way through to shed light in every possible space. As if to answer my questioning gaze, a clap of thunder echoed above us, followed by a bright flash of lightning. The rain had brought a drop in temperature with it and I'd ended up putting on my new gray cardigan right after finishing my half of cooked rabbit meat. I hugged it closer to my body as the water chilled my skin and began following Daryl's lead. We headed out toward the road again, searching in all directions for any signs of Walkers or other living people. But it seemed like we were alone. For the moment, at least.

The thunder rumbled above us every few minutes accompanied by lightning flashes. Once or twice, I caught a shockingly bright bolt of lightning emerging from the sky and reaching down toward the earth off in the distance. I wondered if it had struck any trees. Then I started thinkin' about how I'd seen a tree back at my farm catch fire once when I was little after it was struck by lightning in the early morning hours. Luckily, it was put out before it could spread, but it could've burnt our whole barn down and then some.

Of course, I guess it's all burnt down now anyway, huh…?

I didn't mind walking in the rain. Even though the random gusts of wind chilled me to the bone and the rain plastered my hair to my neck and my forehead, it felt refreshing in a way. A nice break from the heat and humidity and constant sweating. I barely noticed the bandage wrapped around my head anymore, but I caught Daryl glancing at me and looking worried from time to time. I saw his eyes inspecting the black cloth and the lump on the back of my head that was still thoroughly covered. Eating must've helped my condition because my head wasn't pounding quite so hard anymore. It was more of a dull aching that started in the back of my skull and webbed out to the rest of my head.

Daryl seemed like he was enjoying the relief from the heat, too. He didn't seem to mind the rain falling on him, although he was lookin' at the sky precariously, as if he expected something worse to show up. The lightning flashes were coming more often now, and I started wondering if we should get out of the open and away from so many trees. I mean, I know it's not really likely that we're gonna die from a lightning strike out here, but you just never really know. There's so many more ways to die now, especially since doctors and medical supplies are so few and far between. Walkers aren't even my worst fear anymore. Even though my head was feeling better, the injury was still prevalent in my mind. I couldn't shake the fogginess from my head, and as we walked, I realized it wasn't the chill that was making me shiver – my hands and arms were shakin' and I didn't know why. I gripped my knife with one hand and a strap of my bag with the other to try to steady them, but it wasn't working. I didn't say anything to Daryl. He had enough to worry about.

The rain wasn't letting up. In fact, it was only coming down harder, turning into sheets of cold rain, pelting us with water. During the worst of it, Daryl slowed until we were next to each other, then ushered me to a canopy of leaves beneath a large tree where we found just a few inches of dry coverage.

"Ain't safe to be out in this," he grumbled as we squatted next to the tree in a sad effort to get dry. "Need to find somewhere to lay low till it passes. We're too vulnerable out here. Not enough visibility in this shit."

I knew he was right but I had nothing to offer in suggestion. I felt useless. I was trying relentlessly to clear my head without his knowing, but nothin' seemed to be working.

"Beth…"

I had zoned out for a moment without noticing. I looked at him, his eyes dark and full of worry as they stared into mine. He was trying to see past them, figure out what was goin' on in my head.

"Should we try to go back and find the truck?" I couldn't think of anything else to suggest. We hadn't seen a house or shed or anything for miles.

He was still staring at me, searching my eyes for a clue. He spoke slowly, suspicion heavy in his voice. "No… too far back now, it'd be pointless… Are you sure yer okay?"

His question caught me off guard even though it shouldn't have. "Of course – why?"

"Yer back. Seemed like you were pretty hurt when we were huntin' that rabbit. Lemme look at it," he said.

Relieved that he wasn't questioning my mental state, I nodded and took off my bag, turning around and slowly lifting my shirt. I winced as it crossed a large spot on my lower back and caused me a little pain. It was true, my remarkable shot at the rabbit and the prospect of fresh meat had distracted us both so much that we'd totally forgotten about whatever injury was on my back that had made me cry out in pain. Besides, nothing felt broken and there was no blood, so I hadn't bothered to worry.

I shivered, but not from cold or rain this time, as his calloused fingers traced the sore area of my back, lifting my shirts just a bit more as he examined it fully. He tested a couple of areas to see if I reacted or not. Goosebumps formed all over my body.

"Bruised. Bad. Made what you already had even worse. Couple cuts, too, but it should be alright as long as there ain't nothin' internal bleedin'," he concluded, carefully sliding my shirts back down and picking up my bag to hand it back to me.

I sighed and took the bag, putting it back over my shoulders with caution as I tried to avoid my sore lower back. "Oh, great, so it's a roll of the dice, huh…"

"Ain't everythin'?" Daryl mumbled, shooting me a look and then standing back up fully to gaze around the tree and examine our surroundings.

He had a point. I didn't reply.

"Think I saw a mailbox less than a mile up the road," he said, squinting into the distance. "Can't see it now, but I know it's there."

I looked in the direction he was staring and saw absolutely nothing but rain up ahead, and before that was only more deserted road. But I trusted him. Maybe I would've spotted the mailbox, too, if my vision were working right.

"Try to make a run for it?" I proposed.

He furrowed his brow at me. "Nah. We'll walk. You don't need to be runnin' just yet."

I shrugged, but he was already diggin' through his bag and pulling out the crumpled ball of shirts from earlier. The remaining shirts were just as dirty and grungy as the one he'd put on, and when he untangled the bunch and handed a stained, red one to me, I stared at it in my hand blankly. It took a few seconds before I realized he was planning on using his as protection from the rain. I followed his cue and held the shirt up and over my head, but I think he saw my moment of confusion. The shirts, however old and smelly, proved to keep off enough water from our heads and faces that we could see better as we walked down the road, and we sped up our pace in anticipation of spotting the mailbox. We tried to each keep our sight on one side – he took the right while I kept my eyes on the left. The woods were especially dark and shadowed beneath the downpour and the clouds, and it was anyone's guess what could be lurkin' between the trees without being heard.

I'm gonna sound like a broken record, because once again, I don't know why I did this or how my mind didn't register what I was doing. I turned my head towards the right and started watching Daryl's side, even though he was already keeping a sharp eye on every angle. I broke my attention away from the left side and left us vulnerable. I couldn't hear anything except the rain hitting the shirt above my head and the ground all around me. I got lost in my own thoughts again, almost forgetting where we were trying to go. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, and out of nowhere.

I spun my head around to make sure we were still safe from the left side of the road and the dark woods that encompassed it. But I found the worst sight – a drenched and rotting Walker had spotted me, and was just inches away from reaching me with its long, bony arms. I hadn't noticed its growls through the pelting rain and repeated thundering that polluted my hearing. I dropped one hand to reach for my knife out of habit, lettin' out a small yelp of surprise that Daryl probably couldn't hear. My hand had caught on one part of the wet shirt and one side of it fell forward instead of back, heavy with water, and stuck to the side of my face, blockin' my view of the Walker. At the same time, its sharp nails had dug into the fabric of my bag and it was pulling me off-balance and back toward it. I quickly shoved the shirt off of my head and away from me while I pulled my knife from its holster and wielded it. But the Walker was fierce, stronger than me with its animal-like hunger, and pulled me back harder.

Then the whole world tilted around me. I felt as if I were on some nauseating ride at the carnival. I completely lost my balance, as well as my sense of what was up or down. I would normally have been able to keep my balance and throw the Walker's grasp off of me, or at least used it to my advantage to kill it. But the foggy feeling in my head had drastically escalated and morphed into a terrible case of vertigo. I couldn't keep my feet steady, or keep my head from tilting every which way. And I especially couldn't stop myself from being pulled backward by the Walker.

I reached out desperately and shoved the walking corpse away from me as I fell, but my strength was misguided and hard to aim, and it proved only to make the thing stumble before it regained its footing and stepped toward me, ready to kneel down and bite into my skin. As ridiculous as it sounds, this Walker had better balance than me.

I fell to the ground with a hard thud, grateful to the stuffed bag on my back for cushioning my fall and saving my bruise from more damage. I looked up to see the Walker about to sink down in front of me and lay its teeth into my leg, so I kicked out as hard as I could, aiming for its flimsy knee. The world tilted around me again and I suddenly had the strong urge to lean over and vomit right there.

I couldn't even get my bearings before a bolt appeared in the air and sent the Walker to the ground almost immediately. Just as I was processing the image – and trying to turn my head to look for Daryl, although it wasn't really workin' since I couldn't even remember which way was the right way to turn – I felt a pressure on my arm and then I was being lifted up to my feet as if I weighed nothing. Once I was standing upright again, I realized how dizzy and light-headed I actually was, and I couldn't stand up on my own. Daryl must've already known, though, because he held me up beside him almost effortlessly, his crossbow held tight in his other hand. I saw something move from a couple yards away, although I had no idea which direction it came from, and then Daryl was turning me around and rushing me forward, away from whatever was comin' close, even though my feet weren't doing any of the work of carrying my weight. I had to shut my eyes tightly to stop the spinning and keep myself from retching everywhere, so I couldn't see any of what was happening. But I felt a lot of jerky movements and heard Daryl swearing under his breath, then I heard the unmistakable sound of the crossbow firing another bolt. Then all I could hear was the rain around me again.

"Beth – Beth, can y'hear me?!" he was practically yelling right into my ear and I flinched away, the loud sound hurting my head.

I nodded but kept my eyes shut. "I think I'm gonna be sick – I'm sorry – "

"Shut up, ain't time fer that," he snapped. "Found the mailbox, and there's the house, just gotta get ya there, alright? Can ya walk? Don't puke on me."

It was a lot to take in and I couldn't quite process it all, but I finally opened my eyes and looked forward. Just ahead, in my blurry vision, I could make out the dark shape of a large house. It seemed so horribly far away at the time. I didn't know if I could make it that far. But Daryl kept pushin' me forward. I insisted on tryin' to walk myself, but I kept getting overwhelmed and had to give in to being motionless in order to keep myself from falling into blackness or losing all the food left in my stomach. Daryl had the crossbow back over his shoulder and was using both arms to carefully support my weight as he practically carried me down a long, sodden driveway.

All the grass and bushes were overgrown and unkempt around us, and while I was trying to blink my eyes open and focus on anything at all, I was gazing downward and noticed there wasn't a single tire track in the dirt below us. It had been a long time since anyone had driven up here. I hoped the house was empty – of people OR Walkers. I just wanted to lie down somewhere dry and safe. I wondered if Daryl would let me nod off for a bit.

After what felt like an eternity, we were finally stepping up onto a porch. Daryl stopped at the top of the stairs and helped me sit down carefully against the wooden railing. I managed to stay stable enough to support my own head and keep myself in a sitting position, for the moment.

"Just wait here, I'm gonna make sure it's clear an' then I'll get you inside. Holler if ya see somethin'," he instructed. I nodded in understanding and forced myself to keep my eyes open and watchful.

It only took him a couple of minutes to pick the lock of the front door, enter the dark house, and create enough noise in the entrance room and the living room to draw out any Walkers. His rhythmic bangs sent vibrations though the porch and my body. I waited, listening closely. Nothing. He made more knocks on the hard walls, stomped the floor a few times for good measure. Then silence. Suddenly, there was creaking coming from the floor above. The house was old and obviously in disrepair, and nearly every movement made a sound that reached clear outside to the porch when the door was open. Daryl was still and silent as he listened to the creaking sound slowly move from one end of the ceiling to the other, and when I looked over, I could faintly see him with his crossbow ready in his hands, stepping lightly across the wooden floors toward the staircase. I turned away and kept glancing around me at the darkness of the yard. Before long, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a Walker shuffling down the big staircase inside the house, all growls and rotting stench. It didn't sound like it'd reached the bottom before Daryl had silenced it with a single bolt.

He waited another few moments, even going as far as to take a glance inside all of the ground-floor rooms, even though it was very dark inside the house with barely any sunlight and no electricity to fill all its corners. He wouldn't have been able to see much of anything except the outlines of furniture and a Walker approaching him. But it seemed that the only one in the house was the one that had been upstairs.

He was suddenly beside me again. I'd shut my eyes for just a second, but he was grabbin' my arm and shaking it. "Beth – Beth!"

I opened my eyes and looked up at him in confusion. I forgot where I was for a moment. "Wha – "

He was already hoisting me up to my feet, but before I could try to stand, he swept my legs out from under me and lifted me up in his arms, cradling me. I felt weak and powerless, but I leaned into him anyway. I rested my head on his shoulder as he rushed me into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He carried me across the dank and dusty entrance room into the living room directly ahead, then over to a long couch that was pushed against a wall and facing a large window on the opposite wall. He gently set me onto the cushions and slid his arms out from beneath me, grabbing a throw pillow and dusting off one side before he propped my head up with it. He slid my bag off my shoulders and out from under me, then set it on the floor next to the couch.

I relaxed into the blissful softness of the old couch. Dust and mildew tickled my nostrils, but I was just grateful to be somewhere dry and comfortable. I tried to keep my eyes open but I was fighting unconsciousness every second. Daryl thrust an open bottle of water into my hands and helped me lift it to my mouth to take small sips.

"Shit, I dunno anything about concussions 'cept not to let you sleep for a while," he was grumbling. I didn't know if he expected an answer or if he was thinking aloud. "Shoulda listened to Hershel more…"

He was holding the water bottle between both hands and kneeling beside the couch, staring at me. His brow was furrowed in concern and he was studying every inch of me, like he was searching for a problem he could fix. I met his gaze and stared back at him blankly, trying to make sense of the words coming from his mouth.

"Who?" was all I could think to say.

His eyes suddenly grew dark, like the clouds that had covered the sky outside. He set the water bottle down and grabbed me by the shoulders, then moved me into a sitting position almost forcefully. I was staring directly at him, not even a foot of space between our faces, his hands gripping my shoulders. I couldn't figure out much in my head, but I could tell he looked terrified… of something.

"Beth. Are you okay?" His words were firm and clear, but his voice shook. I couldn't think of a word to use in reply, so I just continued staring. "Beth. Talk to me. Say somethin'. Anything."

I blinked, but my brain wasn't processing. All I could think of was the loud pounding in my head, and the way my stomach was still doing flips.

"C'mon, Beth… It's me. Don't you know who you are? Who I am? Tell me where we are, Beth," he insisted. His eyes were getting watery, and I saw his lip starting to tremble, but none of it made any sense to me.

A few out-of-order things bubbled up to the surface of my brain and I knew that I was conscious and aware of where I was and who I was, but I just couldn't get my brain to tell my mouth to work. Even writin' about it now, I'm so confused and honestly, a little scared. I've never had a concussion before, and I've never heard stories from anyone that described it like this. I wasn't sure if I'd ever come out of it. It felt like I couldn't get any part of me to work right.

Finally, I pushed past the knot in my throat and found whatever it was that would make my mouth move. "Georgia. Daryl. I'm okay."

My voice sounded foreign to me, and I wanted to tell Daryl everything was fine and that I'd be okay, I just needed a nap, but my voice refused to leave my body.

He sighed, relaxing just slightly at my words, but still looking worried and on the verge of tears. "Ya ain't alright. I dunno what to do… Beth, I'm sorry, I dunno what to – how to help you. I don't know how I can fix this…"

I watched him bite back his despair and I could see his mind working a mile a minute inside his head, tryin' to figure out how he could get me back to normal. I think I felt as helpless as he did.

I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply. I tried to focus. I managed to say out loud, "Food."

When I opened my eyes, he had let go of my shoulders and was clumsily rummaging through his bag. I heard what sounded like sniffling noises between the clinkin' of cans and rustling of clothes and plastic. In seconds, he pulled out a can and cut it open with his knife, then held it out for me to take.

The prospect of food made me able to force my arms out and take the can in my own hands. I instinctually began digging in with my fingers, shoving the cold beans into my mouth relentlessly. I felt ravenous, and even after the first few bites of food, I was beginning to feel better and like my stomach may finally come to a rest. I was focused on nothin' but eating until over half the can was gone. I must've looked a lot like Daryl and how he eats as I was feedin' myself.

It didn't take me long to reach the bottom of the can, and once I had scraped every bit of food I could find into my mouth, Daryl took it from me and set it aside. He handed me an old shirt without a word and I cleaned up my hands and face with it. My arms were weak – and so was the rest of my body – and it was exhausting just holding the light cloth up to my face. When I finished, I dropped the dirtied shirt to the floor and let out a relieved sigh. The vertigo seemed to be gone for the moment, although it liked to come in waves, and my stomach was finally settled. I slumped backward and stretched my legs out once more. The combination of the soft couch cushions and the sound of the rain pelting down from outside enveloped me in comfort. My eyes fell shut in seconds. I felt like I hadn't slept in a year.

"Beth."

I opened my eyes again at the sound of Daryl's low voice, tense with concern. I turned my head just slightly and looked at him, but his eyes were averted downward and away from mine.

"You – know who Hershel is… right?"

My lids had drooped down again and there was no more fighting the deep, dreamless sleep that overtook me. The last thing I remember is tiredly mumbling, "My dad. He's gone now."

_-E.G._


	11. Entry #11

It felt like I was incapacitated for days even though it was just one night. I drifted in and out of sleep every few hours, with my consciousness finding me for moments at a time and then fleeing. The first time I woke up, I didn’t open my eyes, but the smell of dust and cigarette smoke filled my nostrils, followed by the sound of rain steadily pelting the roof above me and the windows around me. I drifted back off within seconds, but the dark silence of sleep was interrupted just minutes – or at least it felt like only minutes – later. This time, I used all my strength to lift my eyelids and look around. I didn’t move my head or neck, only my eyes, but I took in the darkness around me, broken only by a small candlelight feet away that cast an eerie glow around the dusty room I was lying in. The couch beneath me seemed to swallow me, and I couldn’t find the willpower to move even an inch. The smell of cigarette smoke was still prevalent, but the smell of rain nearly conquered it. When I strained my eyeballs to look around, I saw the shadowed windows on the wall with droplets of water racing down their outer edges, and the paintings hung around the room were creepy and foreboding. The candlelight flickered and cast oddly shaped shadows all over the walls. And there was Daryl, sitting on the floor just feet away from the couch I still lay on. He had something in his hands, and it took me a few moments to realize it was my knife in one hand, and in the other, he was running the blade against a dark stone set in his palm. I knew what he was doing, but I had to rack my brain for the word. What was that thing he was runnin’ my knife against? A stone of some kind… then the word finally came to me: a whetstone. He’d found a whetstone to sharpen my blade against. He was no more than a distinct shadow of a man, his dark hair hanging over his face as he concentrated on the task in front of him. The sound was sharp and distinct in my ears, but it blended in with the noise of the rain outside and created almost a melody. I saw the red cherry glow of a cigarette that hung carelessly from his mouth, puffs of smoke circling his head and driftin’ up towards the ceiling just to disappear within seconds. The sound of rain seemed to be louder than it should be, and I realized he had cracked one of the windows open just a couple of inches to let in the cool breeze from outside and the smell of wet earth. Claps of thunder echoed in the sky every few moments and the faint sound drifted inside like a misplaced ghost.

I still hadn’t moved my head, but my eyes lazily focused on Daryl’s shape for a few moments. My brain felt like an old computer trying to reboot, whirring to life but takin’ forever to regain its full functionality. He must’ve felt my gaze on him because he stopped running the blade against the whetstone and looked up, flipping the long hair out of his eyes to meet mine. When he saw my eyes open and staring straight at him, he dropped what he was doing, snuffed his cigarette out in an ashtray sittin’ on the floor, and got up to stride to my side, then knelt down beside the couch and studied my face wordlessly.

“Hi,” I rasped, my mouth dry and my lips cracked.

“How ya feelin’?” He asked, gently brushing a strand of hair off my forehead and pressing the back of his hand to my skin for just a second to check my body temperature.

I shut my eyes again and took a deep breath in before answering, “Weird. Thirsty.”

He grabbed up a bottle of water that had been sittin’ on the floor within my reach and took the cap off, then held it out for me. I took it in a shaky hand and he helped me guide it to my lips for a tentative drink. The water splashed against the back of my throat and immediately brought me relief, and I ended up swallowing a few drinks of the cool liquid. Daryl eased back on the bottle.

“Careful, don’t wanna drink too much at once,” he grumbled, pulling the bottle away from my mouth as I breathed out a sigh of relief. I nodded in understanding and shut my eyes again.

My head was poundin’, but it slowly faded to a dull throb as my system took in the hydration. When he saw that I was ready, Daryl helped guide my hands to tip a few more swallows of water down my throat, then returned the cap to the bottle and set it back on the floor.

“What time is it?” I asked. It was more out of habit than anything, because as soon as the question left my lips, I remembered that there wasn’t really any way for us to tell what time it was. We hadn’t owned a watch in ages.

He glanced over his shoulder and gestured to the large, round clock mounted on the wall on the far side of the living room. I strained to make out the numbers, but they all blurred together, and the dim candle glow was only illuminating the layer of dust that covered the glass face of the clock.

“Quarter to five. Sun should be comin’ up ‘fore too long,” he answered me.

I nodded. “Then where are we gonna go?”

He scoffed as if I’d made a stupid joke. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere. Not like this.”

A tiny fire burned inside me and I opened my eyes wide, forcin’ myself to fully wake up before I pushed myself up to a sitting position on the couch. Daryl looked surprised at my sudden movement, but leaned back to give me space and watched me closely. I settled back into a cushion and rubbed my eyes until I saw stars. Then I looked into his shadowed eyes with indignation.

“I’m fine. I just needed some sleep, that’s all,” I started.

“No, yer not,” he stopped me. “Ya nearly got yerself killed out on the road, couldn’t even stay standin’ up, let alone defend yerself against a Walker. This ain’t one of yer tough girl things, this is a damn concussion, and we gotta treat it as such.”

His comment only proved to make me angrier, and I furrowed my brow at him. “Tough girl things? This ain’t about none of that, I just had an accident but I’ll be fine. I gotta get back on my feet or –“

“Or, or, or – or WHAT?! Ya might actually heal in a decent amount of time? What the hell’s so important that we gotta leave so damn fast and risk yer brain gettin’ more damaged than it already is?!” He snapped.

My mouth clamped shut and I had nothin’ to retaliate with. His blatant mockery and little burst of anger had me taken aback, and even in my hazy state, I could see the telltale signs on his face – he was genuinely worried. And when he’s worried, he gets angry. Typical Daryl Dixon.

I looked down at my lap and forced myself to understand that he was right, at least in a way. But that did nothin’ to soothe the fire in my belly. Even with a concussion, wakin’ up and not knowing where I was or what had happened – and even right now, every second that I’m sitting still and not putting miles beneath my feet - I have this constant ball of anxiety inside me that burns and swells and tells me there’s somethin’ I need to be doin’, somewhere I need to be goin’, and I ain’t got much time to do it. The clock was silently ticking away seconds – and chances – while we sat in this house and waited for my stupid head to stop screwing up.

“My brain ain’t damaged,” I said softly. It was the only thing I could think to say.

He scoffed again, but more out of amusement. “If you say so. Now let’s change yer bandage and see how yer giant goddamn wound is doin’.”

I scooted forward on the couch until I could put my legs over the edge and set my feet down on the floor. Daryl must’ve taken my boots off while I was out because they were resting on the floor beside the water bottle, and the hardwood floor sent a chill through my thick, stained socks. I decided to pick my battles and didn’t say another word in argument. Instead, I just leaned my head forward and moved my ponytail out of the way while he carefully unwrapped the ripped shirt from around my head and revealed the wound on the back. It stung when the air hit it once he’d peeled away the bandage that was practically glued to it. The blood had dried and scabbed, and I winced as he peeled the old bandage off. He showed it to me and I saw that it had been once white, but now it was nearly completely red and soaked through. It struck me that I’d been hurt worse than I had originally thought. I had no idea that I was bleeding that much.

Maybe Daryl was right to be so worried.

“Ain’t damanged one bit, huh?” He said sarcastically, tossing the old bandage to the floor and reaching for the bag sitting nearby to pull out a new one. I caught the bite of bitterness in his sentence, and it didn’t sit well in my ears.

But I didn’t say anything, instead lettin’ him enjoy his moment of being right for once. I didn’t know how to make him understand that it wasn’t a pride thing with me, it was a burden thing. The more helpless I am, the more I feel like I’m draggin’ him down and putting him in harm’s way. If I could’ve just bled in peace and kept trucking along right behind him, I would’ve done so all night long. But I just keep getting hurt, I keep acting stupid and getting into the wrong situations, and it’s not his fault that he cares so much and ends up having to clean up my messes.

Daddy said we all got jobs to do, and right now, my job is to keep me and Daryl alive, and I’m not really doing that. I thought I could defend myself, maybe even him when he really needed it. But I can’t even keep myself from cracking my own head open. How could I ever help him? He acts like this is his first nature, like the way things were before The Turn were just inconvenient and temporary, and he was only waitin’ for the world to go back to the way it is now so he could use everything he knows to stay alive and thrive. No matter what happens, he just keeps showin’ me day after day that he really was made for this – for the way things are now. And I keep letting him down and causing him a bunch of worry. What good am I if I just keep gettin’ in the way?

The cut on my head stung when he dabbed hydrogen peroxide on it. He’d soaked the bandage with the liquid and tried to ease me into the fresh wrapping, but I couldn’t hold back the hiss of pain when the cold fluid hit the healing scab, and it sizzled to life with fresh agony. It sent a spider-web of shock through my whole head and I had to stop myself from jerking away.

“Cracked yer head bad,” he mumbled in his low growl of a voice as he cleaned the wound and gently pressed the bandage against it, giving me some relief. “This shit ain’t nothin’ you can walk off. It’s yer head, it’s the most fragile damn part of ya. Gonna take some time, whether you like it er not.”

I pursed my lips and kept my ponytail out of the way as he wrapped the black fabric around my head once again, the bandage still damp and pressed tight against the throbbing spot on the back of my skull. He really likes being right. And I knew he was, but it was horribly disheartening to think of how much time we were losing by sitting in this old, abandoned house, waitin’ for me to heal. I’d tried not to think about it lately, but it forced its way back to the front of my mind – how much farther away were Maggie and the others getting while we sat in this house? How many miles were they crossing while Daryl assumed they were dead? Did they think the same of us – just assuming we were dead, that we hadn’t even made it out of sight of the prison? Did they think we were just a couple of Walkers right now, wandering the Georgia backwoods in search of food? Or did they just assume that of me, while knowin’ Daryl was out there somewhere, probably finding his way back to them the best way he knew how?

What would Maggie say if me and Daryl finally caught up to her? If she saw us walking towards her from far away, and realized that the toughest person she knew and the weakest person she knew had stuck together after the prison and actually SURVIVED… what would she say? How would she act?

I think about that a lot. I wish I didn’t. But I just can’t help it. Daryl was made for this, and I wasn’t. Maggie might love me, but I know she’s smart enough to understand that and admit it. She probably doesn’t expect to find anything of me ever again – not even a body.

I’m starting to think that tryin’ to find them might be a waste of time. Maybe we’ll never reach them. Maybe we’ll never cross paths again, or find out what happened to everyone we cared about. Daryl seemed prepared for that. He had already started to accept it.

Maybe I should, too.

Once my head was wrapped again, Daryl looked me over with an indecisive expression on his face.

“Look pale,” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes and studying me harder, if that was possible.

I shrugged, but my eyes drifted to the windows behind him. The way the rain was racing down the glass outside was entrancing, and the sound of thunder was continuously drifting in through the small open space between the pane and the glass. My eyelids started to droop and my body was screaming at me to lie back down, that I wasn’t nearly rested enough.

Daryl put his hands on my shoulders, firm but gentle, and pushed me back down to lie on the couch. He set my head gently on a pillow and made sure to situate my fresh wrapping and bandage so they wouldn’t slide out of place as I lay down. I put my feet back up on the couch and let my eyes drift shut, the sound of rain and thunder filling my ears. The cushions enveloped me once again, and all I could remember was Daryl grumbling somethin’ about a blanket he’d found before I felt a soft weight over my body. Then sleep overtook me again.

It felt like I’d only been out for a few minutes when I felt a light pressure on my forehead that left a small bit of moisture – like a pair of thin lips pressed to the skin for just a second. I couldn’t discern it from my own sweat, but something that felt like hair tickled my face and I stirred. The smell of leather and sweat filled my nose for just a moment. Before I could push my eyes open or grasp the seconds of consciousness, though, it was gone, and I drifted back off.

I can’t remember any of my dreams – or nightmares – but I know I was tossing and turning on the big couch, and when I finally came to and found enough strength to lift my eyelids, it was still dark out. The rain persisted, but the thunder was lighter and farther between. The inside of the house was permeated with the smell of rain and wet earth, and a cool breeze drifted in and across my sweaty skin, makin’ me shiver. I instinctively looked to the clock on the far wall, which read 6:48. I blinked and took in my surroundings, tryin’ to figure out if I’d really only been asleep for a couple more hours.

I turned my head and saw Daryl on the floor across the room, sitting beside the open window and peering out into the rainy darkness. When he heard me rustling around, he perked up and glanced over at me. I stared at him blankly, still trying to get my bearings. It seemed a lot more difficult for me to wake up than usual. I felt groggy and sore, and my head was throbbin’ again. It ebbed away slowly, but continued to make its presence known.

Daryl had stood up and crossed the room to my side again, kneeling down beside the couch and lookin’ me over, as if he thought he’d find something else wrong with me that he’d missed before.

“Is it still morning?” I asked in my raspy voice.

He shook his head and handed me the bottle of water, once again helping me to guide it to my lips for a tentative drink. The relief flooded through my body and I realized I hadn’t used the bathroom in hours, and my bladder was telling me I needed to go before I could get any more rest.

“Nah, ya slept all day,” he said. His voice had lost any edge of aggression or impatience. I was surprised to hear that I’d slept so long, but it seemed like his hours upon hours of being alone had softened him a bit, and I’d even dare say he was eager to see me awake and talkin’. He looked exhausted, though, and the bags under his eyes were heavy and dark.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t – “ I started.

He shook his head and interrupted me, “Ya needed the rest. Don’t worry ‘bout it. I been up keepin’ watch. It’s been quiet around here… found some cans that’re still good in the kitchen if yer hungry.”

I perked up at the thought of food and my stomach rumbled to life. His mention of how quiet it had been rustled my senses a bit, but the worry dissipated almost immediately. I had a brief and curious look of the room around me, wondering what the doors led to and where Daryl had been spending all his time; the ashtray by the window was full of cigarette butts and surrounded by empty cans so I had a pretty good idea.

“Is there a bathroom?” I asked, stretchin’ out my legs and preparing myself to stand up as I scooted to the edge of the couch.

Daryl stood up when he realized I was getting up and grabbed my hands to help me stand up and steady myself. My balance came to me a lot easier than I’d expected and my legs ached from being still for so long. I wasn’t used to lying down for quite so many hours.

“Yeah, I only used it a couple times. Dug a ditch out back earlier, too,” he answered me, warily letting go of my hands and watching me close to make sure I was completely balanced.

I nodded and looked at him expectantly. He gestured to a door off in the corner, near the staircase. I took slow steps at first to ease my muscles back into movement, crossing the room quickly as my need to relieve my bladder intensified. I pushed my way into the small, dark bathroom and shut the door behind me, quickly undoing my belt and jeans. Daryl had found a candle and set it on the edge of the sink where it cast a dim glow around the tiles and dusty wallpaper. There was a tiny, rectangular window at the very top of the far wall, but the dim moonlight was too obscured by rain and clouds to permeate the glass.

The bathroom was small and technically only a half-bathroom, containing nothing more than a toilet, a simple sink and cabinet, and a medicine mirror. I silently pondered how early it was in the day to have gotten so dark outside. It wasn’t even 7 pm and the sky was already black, offering no hint of remaining sunlight. I was thankful for the small light from the candle, otherwise it would’ve been too dark to even see my hand in front of my face. For a second, I wondered if Daryl had been tryin’ to prepare the house for when I eventually woke up.

I had just finished buckling my belt and was in the process of lowering the lid of the toilet back down when a noise came from above my head. I jumped slightly, lookin’ up to find only the ceiling of the small bathroom. My ears perked up and I stood completely still, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. A few seconds passed, then another noise. It was a thumping sound, inaccurate and heavy, obviously not the footfalls of a human, but definitely something alive. I hurried out of the bathroom and back to where Daryl sat on the couch, rustling through our bags obliviously.

“Psst!” I hissed at him, eyes wide and pulse quickening.

His head shot up and he looked over at me, setting the bags down immediately and standing up. He looked at me expectantly, communicating with nothing but facial expressions.

I narrowed my eyes and glanced up at the ceiling, then back to his eyes. I tried to whisper as quietly as possible, and he had to take a couple of silent steps forward to hear me. “Didn’t you hear it…?”

He shook his head and eyed the ceiling suspiciously. We both stood as still as possible, and I think he may have been holdin’ his breath in an attempt to hear better.

The seconds seemed to drag on as the rain continued outside and I prayed there wouldn’t be a rumble of thunder to make me look like I’d only been paranoid. When a full two minutes went by without a hint of another sound from above us, I approached Daryl until we were only inches apart and leaned in close to his ear. I didn’t know what had been makin’ the sounds upstairs, but I did know that whatever it was, I didn’t want it to hear us downstairs yet.

“Didn’t you check the upstairs already?” I asked in the quietest whisper I could manage.

With my face so close to his, I had the sudden feeling of recognition from somewhere I couldn’t pinpoint at first, kinda like déjà vu – then the fuzzy memory from hours before, when I’d been drifting off to sleep the day away, came back to me, and I placed the scent that had filled my nose then as the same one invading it now. I pushed away the fluttery feeling in my stomach and remained still and serious.

Daryl shook his head, and our eyes met to reveal matching worry. I pursed my lips for a second and nodded my head toward the stairs in gesture.

“I think there’s somethin’ up there,” I whispered.

He sighed, as if it were more of an annoyance than anything. He also sounded a bit like he’d been dreading havin’ to go upstairs and assure it was safe, and now he knew there was no way around it.

I gave him a quizzical look, “Why didn’t you check it yet?”

His dark blue eyes seemed to soften. Or maybe I was just seein’ things. He furrowed his brow quick and quietly grunted back, “Couldn’t be alone up there – what, ya expect me to go clear it by myself, no backup? Don’t even know how big it is…”

I saw through his act this time. He was trying to make me feel guilty for askin’, like it was a selfish thing of me to have expected. But the real reason was that he didn’t know what could happen down here if he were up there for too long, or got stuck, or hurt. Then I’d be a sitting duck, injured and useless.

Yeah, I can think like him sometimes, too. The more time I spend with him, the more it becomes a residual habit.

I didn’t argue back or antagonize him, wanting nothin’ but cooperation out of fear for what could be behind the numerous doors on the second story. I whispered as calmly and clearly as I could, “We gotta go clear it. Or it’ll come to us.”

He nodded and looked toward the ceiling with tired eyes. I remained completely still as I watched him quietly step over and grab up his crossbow, which looked like it’d been cleaned and was already loaded with a bolt, prepared for immediate use. He leaned down and picked up my knife from where it lay atop a shirt on the ground, the whetstone next to it, and handed it to me. I took it and immediately felt safer, the handle cool and smooth against my palm. He motioned for me to follow him as he led the way up the stairs, but I stopped when I saw how dark it was at the top. I reached over and grabbed the candle that Daryl had been primarily using in the living room for light, carrying it with me in my free hand as I crept up the stairs behind Daryl, both of us trying our hardest not to elicit too many squeaks from the stairs.

I listened closely and tried to move as cautiously and quietly as possible, but there was no more sound coming from the second floor. I thought it would get louder or more obvious as we moved closer to the source, but it seemed to have gone silent once more. However, I thought, how long had it been makin’ noise without either of us noticing before this? I had doubt that Daryl had spent hardly any time in that tiny bathroom, let alone enough to hear the thumps that I had picked up on. I reasoned that it could be a raccoon – hell, even a family of raccoons for all I cared – but I couldn’t EXPECT it to be that. If I don’t expect the worst, then the worst is sure to happen. So, I assumed, it was probably a Walker trapped in a closet, or maybe even tied to somethin’. It could be a kid, too, especially considering it was upstairs behind a door that probably held a bedroom.

The stairway was long and a bit steep, and we had to have crept up at least 25 steps before we reached the top. The second floor of the house was eerily dark and quiet. We stopped at the very top of the stairs, Daryl’s feet just inches from the first step. He motioned for me to move around him and go ahead, so I crept around him to the other side until we were both facing the closed door at the top of the staircase. I turned around to quickly place the candle on a small table that was sitting against the wall behind us, a couple of feet out of the way of the doorway. If I’d heard something alive from the downstairs bathroom, it would be in this room.

We shared a communicative look before Daryl perched his crossbow, ready to fire, and I gripped my knife tightly in my hand. He carefully turned the knob of the door before shoving it open in a flash. The door banged off the wall when it swung back and the sound sliced through the silence. My nerves jumped to attention and that familiar shot of adrenaline coursed through my veins. Shadows moved and shifted inside the bedroom, the bay window on the far wall refusing to let in any sort of light from behind their heavy, dark curtains, and the candlelight from behind us just barely enough to send a glow inside the room. But the movement gathered and sped across the floor of the bedroom and out the door, gliding past both me and Daryl at no more than ankle height and shooting straight down the stairs in a dark blur. It must’ve been a trapped cat or somethin’, but it moved so suddenly and so quickly, it surprised us both, and Daryl stumbled a bit where he stood. My eyes had averted away from the open door and to Daryl, watching him regain his balance and return his attention to the bedroom, but in that split second that we’d both been distracted, a much larger shadow emerged, and it definitely wasn’t a cat.

I couldn’t understand why we hadn’t heard any noises if it was a Walker – they’re usually so loud and miserable, with their groaning and growling and disgusting moans. They sneak up on you, but if they’re trapped or they don’t know you’re there, they can be pretty hard to miss. Especially once you get used to the silence of places like large, abandoned houses. But this one hadn’t made a sound, just the random thumps that had peaked my attention. It made sense, though, when the Walker emerged and just enough light reached its figure to reveal that its entire head had been wrapped with multiple bedsheets, the layers smothering and silencing any sounds that could’ve emanated from the undead corpse. They were secured tightly around the decaying head with thin rope tied off in complex knots. It left the Walker silent, but also blind and mostly deaf. Even though the layers were thick, its sharp teeth had managed to poke their way through in a few spots, makin’ an otherwise foolproof Walker into an actual danger.

I was partially thankful that it had turned out to be an adult and not a child, but that didn’t make it any better when it stumbled toward us, arms outreaching and jaw snappin’ against fabric. Daryl leaned to the side suddenly, dodgin’ the grasping fingers. But he leaned too far to the left, and the little balance he had regained from our first scare quickly left him. His feet stumbled and he raised his crossbow in an attempt to save it, free hand flying out wildly, and I stepped towards him just in time to reach out and grab it. I don’t know how I acted so quickly, or how my brain was even able to process the situation that fast, but I saw him falling towards the giant set of stairs, backwards and vulnerable and weighed down, and my first instinct demanded the reaction. He was a lot heavier than I was prepared to hold, and my feet nearly flew out from beneath me, but I dropped my knife and reached out to grab the top of the railing for the stairs. I was still going to lose my grip on him, but I kept him from fallin’ and he reacted by dropping his crossbow and grabbing the railing nearest to him. He quickly lifted himself up and returned to defensive mode as I did the same, but now our weapons were on the ground – his had tumbled down a few stairs -  and the Walker was taking blind, stumbling steps toward us. Its hands were inches from grasping us, and the hallway was too narrow to step back any farther.

“Move!” I yelled, and I acted on the first thought that entered my brain.

Daryl looked over and immediately did as I had instructed, stepping back away from the staircase as the Walker moved to take another uneasy step toward him. I stepped forward confidently and put every ounce of strength I had into a hard, flat-footed kick into the hip of Walker. The body was fairly decomposed but still had some weight to it. Luckily, I was able to knock it off balance just enough to tip it off to the side, and it fell down the stairs, tumbling over every step with loud thumps and thuds.

I snatched my knife up from the ground and rushed to the top of the stairs, watching the Walker come to a rest at the bottom and scramble to pick itself back up. Daryl rushed past me to grab his crossbow from where it had stopped, caught in the railing of the stairs, having miraculously avoided being smashed by the tumbling corpse. Without another word, he lifted it before him and shot a bolt down the staircase. It impaled the corpse directly through the middle of its sheet-wrapped head, and its body finally fell to a rest on the floor below. He looked back at me and I saw relief in his eyes.

“You should really watch yer step,” I remarked smartly as I returned to the small table in the hallway and picked up the candle, holding it up to give more light to the expression on Daryl’s face.

He stepped toward me and briefly glanced inside the bedroom, but it was still and silent now, and his head turned back to face me. He was smirking. He didn’t say anything else as he walked forward and past me, and I automatically followed, bringing the glow of the candlelight with me to break up the black shadows of the dusty hallway.

The whole encounter had raised my blood pressure and brought back the painful throbbing in my head, remindin’ me of how wounded I was. I winced when I felt it hit but didn’t let out any sounds or give any indication that might’ve caught Daryl’s attention. The pain slowly ebbed away as we traveled down the hall in silence, but it left a dull ache in the back of my skull to remind me it was always present.

We opened a door to another bathroom – a real one this time, with a porcelain bathtub and everything – and then a door to a linens closet and another door to a small office before we finally found the door to the master bedroom. Daryl swung it open carefully, and I lifted the candle just a bit to try to shed more light on what was inside. The room was large, and decorated mostly in purples and oranges, but the candlelight was quick to illuminate the most enticing part of the room: the California King-sized bed covered in overstuffed pillows and a thick, plush duvet.

We looked at each other simultaneously, and I couldn’t hold back the smile that broke across my face. “And I’ve been sleepin’ on a couch this whole time?”

This time, he agreed that he should’ve searched the upstairs a lot sooner.

_-E.G._


End file.
